A seventh year, in which things might change
by Everybody-knows55
Summary: If you've spent six years of your life hating somebody, can one year really make that much of a difference? Scorpius and Rose.
1. Of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin

**A/N: This is my first go, so go easy! Actually, don't. Tell me every little thing I've done worng so I can perfect my mistakes. **

**Disclaimer: No. I am not J.K Rowling. As you might have guessed. And no. Harry does not belong to me. Sadly enough.**

It is not my fault that I have to share the Headship with that foul cockroach. You should have seen his face when he found out who was Head Girl to his Head Boy. It fell, for all of a millisecond, and then that trademark Malfoy smirk retuned.

Six years.

That's how long I've had to put up with taunts from the slimeball.

And now.

In my final year.

With important exams coming up.

Some twisted, evil, loathsome idiot has decided that we've got to share everything.

The title. A dorm. A bathroom.

How is that last one even justified? One bathroom? To be shared by a girl and a boy? How perverted. It might have been fine. If the Head Boy had been someone vaguely attractive. Or even a Blast-Ended Skrewt. McGonagall must be off her rocker if she thought that a Weasley and a Malfoy were ever going to make a good team. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin. A good person and the worst person on the planet.

But none of that matters, because 'what's done is done.' Malfoy and I are stuck together.

For a year.

I'm just going to pray that I have the self control not to murder the blonde prat any time soon.

And even now, at eleven o' clock a night, he's just sitting there.

Still smirking.

"Doesn't it hurt your face Malfoy?" I ask abruptly, fed up with his grey eyes just staring into space. But rather than being a decent human being and turning round to face me to reply, he merely drawls

"This smirk, Weasley, is part of my heritage. The same way you appear to have inherited red hair and freckles. But then. Can we all come from a gene pool as magnificent as mine?"

I half expect him to conjure a hand mirror and start to fix his hair. But, he doesn't. Damn it. I could have thought of so many lines for that one. Spoilsport.

* * *

She's itching to talk to me again. Okay, so the gene pool comment had sounded egotistical, but Weasley had been asking for it. She thinks she's so funny. But, she's not at all. Whilst wit is ingrained in my very being, she tries to the point of pettiness.

I sigh at the prospect of a year of 'friendly' banter with her; I would have preferred anything to Weasley as Head Girl. And I mean anything, not anyone.

"Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs" Weasley says, grinning. "Spill Malfoy. Which unlucky mite is it now?"

"You, Weasley" I reply, "Are the most irritating parasite to inhabit the Earth in a very long time"

She raises an eyebrow and puts a hand on her chest. "Oh dear. Scorpius. You wound me. You really do" she sighs theatrically.

"You jest at scars that never felt a wound" I return tartly. At which point, Weasley chokes on the very air that she's breathing. I smirk, delighted.

"You thought you were the only person in the entire wizarding community to have read Muggle literature?"

Looking genuinely shocked at my knowledge of that ridiculous play, she asks slowly, "You've touched Romeo and Juliet? Written by Shakespeare? One of the most famous Muggles ever?"

"I'm a Malfoy, Weasley" I say, wondering when on earth the uptight witch is going to relax "I'm cultured, unlike you Weasley lot"

"What's in a name?" she asks softly. "That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet"

"So, Weasley. You being a Rose and all. You're allowing me to call you anything?" I grin, which she mistakes for a leer.

"I'm tired Malfoy. I'm going to bed"

She thinks I'm coming onto her. Poor delusional soul.

* * *

He threw me. He really did. I mean, Scorpius Malfoy? The pureblood who looks down his nose at everyone. Had read the most famous romance play of all time. Dear Merlin. Whatever is happening to the world?

I contemplate as I get ready for bed.

Unlike our sitting room, which is a perfectly neutral mix of creams and beiges, my room is decorated in red and gold, which leaves me in no doubt that the slimeball's is green and silver. I'd unpacked all of my school stuff earlier in the evening, leaving only a layer of nostalgia at the bottom of my trunk; photos, a teddy, some letters. Picking up a photograph of the Weasley clan, (myself, Hugo, James, Al, Lily, Molly, Lucy, Roxy, Freddie, Dominique, Louis, Victoire and Teddy, of course) Victoire smiles at me. I wave back, before placing the photo carefully on my desk.

I'm sitting on my bed, reading peacefully, (a letter Uncle Charlie had sent from Romania) when young Master Malfoy seriously invades my privacy, Banging open the door that connects my bedroom to our shared bathroom, he stands in the doorway wearing grey jogging bottoms, and not much else. Raking me over with his eyes, he opens his mouth, which spoils the 'you would so make it as a model' effect quite dramatically, "Weasley, Have you got any toothpaste? I appear to have misplaced my own"

Lucky for him, my wand is on the other side of the room, or the door would be slamming right back in his smug face.

"Is my toothpaste good enough for you, Malfoy? Because, I mean, I'm only a half-blood. So, aren't your hallowed pureblood hands too good for my toothpaste?"

He gives up far too easily for my liking. Just takes a deep breath and snarls, "Grow up Weasley, all I wanted was some freakin' toothpaste" With that, he slams the door for himself, and seconds later I hear the swish of a wand and a tap running. So, if he could have just conjured the toothpaste in the first place, why exactly did he feel the need to bother me?

* * *

The look on Weasley's face, as I was standing in her doorway, was intriguing, to say the very least. I knew she wouldn't have lent me the toothpaste, but then I only really wanted to show off. I saw that little intake of breath when I opened the door, although she'll try and deny it of course. I must say, for a half blood, she didn't look too bad herself. I don't understand why she's so tense all the time. I mean, if she'd never told me her surname, hitched up her skirt by a few inches and undid a few of the buttons on her blouse, even she might have had a chance with me.

My room is identical to hers, except in Slytherin colours obviously, but she's already managed to get all her family paraphernalia into hers. The Weasleys and their family solidarity. The mere thought makes me chuckle. I don't need any of that stuff; I have power, which is all I'll ever need. Although, I'm sure she'll want to be the perfect Head Girl, do everything by the book, suck up to McGonagall etc, etc. It's all too exhausting for me.

Lying back on the cold silk sheets of my bed, I wonder whether Weasley is asleep yet. Not that it matters to me; but just lying here is boring and even another argument with her would be better than staring at the ceiling. Eventually, I must have fallen asleep, because I have the weirdest dream; those hazel eyes of hers haunting me, like she's stalking me. Even whilst I'm dreaming I know that it's ridiculous; two people have never loathed each other more, our fathers, maybe, being the exception. But then, she's more intelligent than her father, and I'd like to think that I'm more witty than mine.

Stupid girl. There's something about those eyes, with their flecks of gold, (so typically Gryffindor) that intrigue me. Then, I roll over, realise this is Rose Weasley we're talking about and put my weird thoughts down to fatigue.


	2. Of Dittany and Firewhisky

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* * *

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A/N: Yes. Twice in one day. But, I'm bored, because I'm on study leave. You know the drill. Read and Review.

**Disclaimer: Why do we have to write these things? Everybody knows that nobody else owns Harry, well except for Ms. Rowling. **

"Lazy git" I think to myself

"Lazy git" I think to myself. Malfoy had been there with me when McGonagall had suggested (alright, ordered) that we come down to breakfast together, at eight thirty sharp, to illustrate to our charges that the Head Girl and Head Boy do not want to perform the Cruciatus curse on one another. Which, of course, we do.

While I'm standing at the edge of his bed, I muse that the slimeball looks almost sweet in sleep. Then, I slap myself. And his eyes open. Which is enough to drag me right back down to Earth.

"And what exactly do you want, Weasley?" he asks, not a hint of sleep in his voice, just the usual Malfoy charm.

"For you to get your good-for-nothing arse out of bed" I counter calmly, "Just meet me outside the portrait in ten minutes, okay, Malfoy?" And I stalk off, thankfully without having made an idiot of myself. Because I often do. But only ever in front of him.

I don't see any point in waiting inside the common room for the idiot to perform fifty different charms to make fluff brained bimbos fall in love with him, so I grab my school bag and climb out of the portrait hole.

The old witch in the portrait is serenely watching a jumper knit itself whilst stroking the tabby on her lap. "And where's our dashing Head Boy this morning?" she asks, thinking that she's relating to me, or something equally ridiculous.

"The arrogant slimeball is getting out of bed now" I reply. I like slimeball. It's descriptive, yet not so explicit that it can't be dropped into everyday language.

"Slimeball, Weasley?" My favourite drawl greets me, "That's no way to refer to your Head Boy, is it?" Oh.

Dear.

Merlin.

Why?

Why Malfoy?

This year is not going to go well.

It's not going to go well at all.

* * *

The fact that I woke up to her standing over me with an expression other than repulsion on her face was quite a miracle. And then she had to go and spoil it by opening her mouth. I reckon I'm going to have to brush up on the 'Silencio' this year, otherwise Merlin knows how I'm going to survive.

The walk with her to breakfast is not fun. Which idiot decided to put the Heads' chambers six flights of stairs above the Great Hall? They probably thought that the Head Girl and Head Boy were going to have cosy little chats about magical theory and discipline. I get stony silence.

Although, saying that, I don't much mind. Weasley, with her mouth shut, is a lot more picturesque than with her mouth open, that's for sure. But, a lot less interesting.

She gets her first taste of authority by rudely interrupting a fourth year couple on the second floor, who clearly could do with some privacy. But no. The interfering girl has to go and cast a Shield Charm between the two of them, breaking up what was surely a passionate reunion, after two months apart. Then, she berates them for a full two and a half minutes about behaviour in school corridors, before dismissing them, and continuing walking, just as loftily as before.

"Shame really" I comment, hoping I can make her lose her composure before she reaches the Great Hall.

"What's a shame, Malfoy?" She all but spits back at me, fiddling with her Head Girl badge.

"Good looking Ravenclaw like him. With a Gryffindor. I suppose there's no accounting for taste." Her pale complexion is getting red, her freckles beginning to join up, to give a blush on her cheeks. "Although" I continue, "She could have been a Hufflepuff. The lesser of two evils, maybe"

Rose Weasley's facial expression is priceless. If she only looks at me like that once a day I know that I'm upholding a great Malfoy tradition.

* * *

McGonagall glances up hopefully at us when we enter the Great Hall. I think she's hoping that one night stuck together will have made me and Malfoy best buddies. She looks like she half expected us to walk in holding hands. Poor, poor woman. Brilliant witch, but clearly getting a bit crazy with age.

As it is, Malfoy and I separate at the entrance doors; me to my red and gold and him to his green and silver. And I hope to be able to eat my breakfast with no mention of him.

"Pumpkin Juice? Tea? Coffee?" Lily greets me cheerfully as I drop myself messily (Oops, first Head Girl slip-up) onto the bench next to her.

"We haven't got anything stronger, have we Lils?" I ask as I pour milk over some cereal, and scan the back page of Al's Daily Prophet. One of Chudley Cannons' beaters has been suspected in connection with Muggle baiting, if anybody wants to know.

"Was it really that bad?" Lily asks sweetly, sipping at her goblet of Pumpkin Juice and scanning the sky for post.

"Yes. It was awful. You expecting an owl?" I ask, absent-mindedly, spooning cereal into my mouth.

"No" Lily says, quite placidly, although the impish expression on her face suggests otherwise. "So, are you going to resort to hitting the bottle to survive this year?"

"Never" Al says, from behind his newspaper. "Head Girls are for setting a good example to the other students; Rose is supposed to be an advocator of sobriety and abstention, Lily. Not that you should be thinking about either of those" he adds sharply, giving Lily and over-protective glance that is reminiscent of his big brother. "You're fifteen, struggle along with OWL's for now, they'll be plenty of time for that sort of stuff later in life. Like when you're thirty"

"I'll never understand why Malfoy got Head Boy over you, Al" Lily says kindly, as Al continues to glare at her.

"Well, he can be a right charmer when he chooses" I reply, in lieu of Albus, "Believe me, I'm the one that has to live with him."

* * *

Slytherins are known for their cunning. But cunning does not necessarily mean intelligent. Some of tem are downright brainless. Take, for example, Mariah Salinas. Much prettier than our revered Head Girl, but with about a tenth of the brain.

Mariah Salinas is, in an unconventional sense, my girlfriend. But, without any of that sentimental handholding, 'I-love-you'ing. Because Malfoys do not do sentiment. She looks good next to me, she's a pureblood, her family is rich and she's passable in bed. Therefore, she's the girl that I'll end up marrying someday. Like my mother, she'll spend all day reading Witch Weekly and buying expensive robes with family money. It's what Malfoy relationships have always been like, and who am I to start breaking traditions that have been passed down through generations, over centuries?

So, when Mariah slips onto the bench next to me, I allow her a peck on the cheek before returning to my toast and my thoughts. The girl witters mindlessly about all the gossip in the seventh year female Slytherin dorm, and, for once, I have to admit that Rose Weasley is not that bad; she has never once insisted on boring me with the trivialities of the female mind.

Professor Lorento glides along the house table, handing out timetables for the new year; starting at the bottom with the first years and working his way up the table until I am the last to receive my 'honours.'

"Malfoy, Scorpius" Lorento hands me a slip of parchment full of boxes. I glance down at it and nod my head at my Head of House to let him know that the information is correct. He claps me on the shoulder and heads back to the staff table. I drag myself to my feet and wince at the prospect of double Charms. Weasley takes Charms as well. Which means two hours of her. Followed by Transfiguration (most likely with her) and double Defence Against the Dark Arts, again, with her.

* * *

Malfoy, as usual, manages to turn up to the lesson smack bang on time, McGonagall striding in a mere four or five seconds. Although our Headmistress has got to be pushing one hundred she still somehow manages to run the school AND teach NEWT level Transfiguration to the sixth and seventh years. Plus, she's still quite sprite, even if she is getting a tiny bit loopy, as is proven by her choice of Head Boy.

Even though Malfoy has come from exactly the same lesson as me he still manages to be at least a minute later than me, which might be on account of the fact that I almost ran to our third floor classroom from Charms, whereas I'm sure that Malfoy purposely stopped to sweet talk every girl older than thirteen on his way up the stairs.

Eleven students take NEWT level Transfiguration in the seventh year; Malfoy and I, obviously, my adorable cousin Albus, two other Slytherins, two other Gryffindors, three Ravenclaws, and a Hufflepuff. I sit next to my cousin, the same way Al and I have always done everything together, even before Hogwarts.

"Transfiguring human features, as I told you last year, is an essential requirement of Auror training" McGonagall says, looking pointedly at Al, who promptly blushes. I sigh with relief. I can now handle Human Transfiguration, mostly due to the fact that I asked my mother's help over the summer, since I knew it'd rear it's ugly head again this year. I'm so busy being happy that I now excel in this field of Transfiguration that I miss Malfoy raise his hand, but I hear his question.

"So, Professor, you could use these types of spells to cover up any evidence of say, spattergroit?" McGonagall nods as Malfoy adds, quite clearly, "Or, freckles?"

* * *

She's still angry at me for the freckle dig from Transfiguration. Even though it happened hours ago. But, she's got herself a nice big pile of homework to take her mind off things. Although, she doesn't handle homework exactly the way I thought she would. I imagined a straight backed chair, at a desk, a severe lamp, with an explosion of millions of rolls of parchment. The reality is somewhat different. She's sat on the sofa, legs curled beneath her, textbook on her lap and an ever diminishing supply of Chocolate Frogs on the coffee table in front of her.

"Weasley" I drawl, in an attempt to instigate some from of conversation with her, "Have you never heard of a diet?"

She looks up from her book and raises an eyebrow, switching seamlessly from serious homework style, to shamelessly sarcastic. "Diet is whatever you eat, Malfoy. Hence, my diet is these Chocolate Frogs and I think that they're doing me fine" Her eyes snap back to her parchment and she begins to nibble lightly on the end of her quill, in a way that I'm almost certain she's never nibbled a guy's mouth. I attempt to initiate conversation once more.

"You could do with a 'Don't-eat-anything-for-two-weeks' type diet though, Weasley" I say, hoping this might induce some response. Again, she looks up and replies acidly,

"I'll have you know that I'm underweight for my height, Malfoy, so a few Chocolate Frogs aren't going to do me any harm" She seems well and truly to have returned to her work, so I stroll over to the bookshelf. I take a book down and go back to my seat next to the fireplace. It's entitled "101 ways to lead successfully in the modern wizarding world" but I charm the title to read "101 ways for red heads to look prettier, in a world where blonde must rule."

Just as a present for Weasley.

* * *

The next time I look up from my DADA essay, Malfoy's reading. This surprises me no end; I'd assumed that Malfoy couldn't read, what with his brain being full of so much more important stuff; how fantastic he is, for example. I glance at the cover of his book, to see if he's reading anything vaguely intellectual.

"101 ways for red heads to look prettier, in a world where blonde must rule." I read, and a little hiss escapes me, entirely accidental. Without moving his eyes from the page, Malfoy comments,

"This really is an amazingly good book, Weasley, you should read it some time." Only then do his eyes flicker to me and I smile back, to show him that his pathetic attempt has failed. To his credit, he doesn't recognise that his endeavour has failed, just sits there, looking back at me. We sit there for a few moments, both just staring at one another, until I can no longer take it. Picking my wand up from the table in front of me, I flick it, and my homework zooms away to my bedroom.

Malfoy, who has picked up his wand also, anticipating an attack, smirks at me and taunts,

"What, Weasley? Scared that you're not good enough to beat me?"

I ignore Malfoy and twirl my wand above my head, conjuring a little flock of yellow birds that twitter around my head until Malfoy bursts out laughing,

"That is a lovely bit of conjuring Weasley!"

He laughs until I point my wand at the birds first, and then at him and yell, quite loudly,

"Oppugno!"

Malfoy clearly thinks I've lost the plot when nothing happens, until my birds nosedive towards him and begin scratching at him with their beaks and claws.

As I leave for my own room I hear his shrieks of pain. Pushing open my door, I decide to write to my parents and tell them all about the joys of being Head Girl.

Whoever said I'm not my mother's daughter?

* * *

All I can feel is blinding pain. Every time I move my wand arm to protect myself another bird manages to peck me and I can't cast any protective charm. In between thinking about how much pain I'm in, I curse Weasley to oblivion.

Her, and her stupid birds.

I have no choice but to walk all the way to the Hospital Wing and get the school nurse to sort me out. As I decide on this course of action Weasley emerges from her room with a sealed piece of parchment in her left hand and her wand in her right. She raises the wand, and says lazily,

"Finite Incantatem"

A wonderful sense of freedom washes over me, as I realise that those stupid birds are gone, followed by an anger so white-hot that I have no control of myself.

"YOU STUPID COW!" I scream, barely aware of my injuries. "YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!" Weasley merely raises an eyebrow and replies,

"Much as I'd have liked to Malfoy, I rather think that McGonagall would have noticed if I'd killed you. I only left you with the birds for a few minutes whilst I wrote a letter"

I'm shocked a how casual she's being; the girl is clearly a cold blooded killer. I splutter for a few seconds, before she goes back into her room, and I shout after her,

"DON'T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME, WEASLEY!" She murmurs something and returns a few seconds later, with a bottle.

"Come here" she orders, having sat down on the sofa. I stay where I am, frankly quite intimidated by the psycho.

"Unbelievably enough, Malfoy" she says, "I'm trying to help you, otherwise I'm going to end up getting expelled."

Cautiously, I make my way over to the sofa, where Weasley pops the lid off the bottle and squirts some of the liquid in the palm of my hand.

"Just rub it onto the scratches, Malfoy" she says, as I stare at the goo on the palm of my hand. "They'll be healed in no time at all"

I don't really have any choice but to trust her.

* * *

"Damn it" I think, as I sit watching Malfoy wincing. "I am a complete failure"

The dittany is working perfectly, and Malfoy is starting to look less like he's been dragged through a bramble bush backwards.

"Do you expect me to say to say thank you?" Malfoy asks, when he's finished rubbing the dittany in. "It's only because of you that I looked like I'd been sitting in a room full of Hungarian Horntails"

"No, Malfoy" I snap back, pouting dittany into my own hands, "I expect you to turn around and shut up"

The look on Malfoy's face makes me want to throw up. "Oh Weasley" he leers at me, "I didn't know you felt that way about me"

I can't be bothered to make up a suitably sarcastic response so I just grab Malfoy by the back of the collar and jerk his head towards me.

"You're insane, Weasley. Completely and totally crazy" Malfoy says, as I slap the dittany onto the scratches on the back of his neck and rub it in ferociously, admiring the handiwork of my little yellow birds at the same time.

"I did tell you I'd snap one day, Malfoy" I admonish, ignoring his renewed wincing. "I told you that if you kept pushing me I'd have to retaliate in some way."

"Yeah, well" Malfoy replies, "I never thought that you'd attempt to murder me. Well. I did. But I always assumed you'd just try and fail at the Avada Kedavra."

I flick the back of his neck with my nails, to show contempt for what he's just said, and add

"We're not all Death Eaters, Malfoy, some of us have a little creativity in us"

I'm finished healing him, and I show him so by summoning my homework back to myself, and asking sweetly, "Was there something else you wanted Malfoy?"

He stares at me quizzically. "To understand what the hell goes on in that head of yours"

I smile and reply, "You'll never know Malfoy. You'll never know."

* * *

I let her finish the essay she's writing for DADA. She's almost attacking it and I understand why. It's an essay of the minor roles played in the Battle of Hogwarts. By minor, it is meant not Potter or the Dark Lord. I would know, seeing as how I'd scribbled some stuff down during my free period.

She's writing feverishly, all about her family I suppose; the death of her beloved uncle, and her grandmother finishing off Bellatrix Lestrange, my great-aunt. No wonder there's a slight enmity between the two of us.

She's sealing the parchment the next time that I look at her and her eyes flick towards the carriage clock on the mantle piece.

"9 o' clock, Malfoy" she says, and I bite my tongue. I would have reminded her that I can indeed tell the time, but I remember how casually and viciously she attacked me earlier and I don't particularly fancy a repeat.

"Let's go then, Weasley" I reply lightly, standing up and straightening out my robes.

This is surely going to be the most difficult part of the year; traipsing up and down the eight floors of the castle with her, every single evening.

The portrait wishes us good luck on our first patrol when we climb out of our common room and I resolve to just follow Weasley and try not to rile her any further this evening.

No, I'm not being a coward; there's no such thing as a Malfoy coward. I'm merely using my brain. Unfortunately for me, Weasley seems to have inherited quite a bit from her mother in the brains department, and I don't think that upsetting her any further this evening would be very beneficial to my health.

She turns into the east wing, and starts up the staircase, clearly working from the top downwards. I'm about to suggest we start at the bottom and work up, when I remember the twittering of those birds, and shut my mouth.

* * *

There's an awkward, almost physical silence between us, as we start the fourth floor. I can't believe we're only half way. It's been a long night, especially with Malfoy sulking. Don't get me wrong, he's still strutting next to me but it's guarded, almost cautious.

"Do you want to know the person I admire most on this planet, Malfoy?" I ask, sick of the billowing silence.

"Let me guess" Malfoy replies sarcastically. "Your Uncle Harry? No. Too obvious. Your mother? No. She's too close to home. Your grandmother?"

"No" I reply, quite pleasantly, "Your grandmother." Malfoy stops dead in his tracks, looking at me like I've grown an extra head.

"Weasley, I'm not in the mood for your ridiculous mind games. Whatever you want to say about me, go ahead. But do not drag my grandmother into this"

I'm on the verge of taunting Malfoy about his newfound weakness, when I realise that since I'm the initiator of this conversation, it'd be rude to go there. That, of course, is the difference between Malfoy and I.

"I'm not playing mind games, Malfoy. I really do admire her" I say, as we pass through the portrait lined corridors, making for the stairs to the next floor.

Malfoy, for once in his life, is speechless, for maybe twenty seconds, before spitting venomously, "Don't expect me to ask why Weasley. I feel really quite sorry for my grandmother if all her adoring fans are like you"

Once upon a time, I might have run to James or Dominique, sobbing that I was only trying to be nice, and why did he have to be such a jerk? As it is, I'm far too old for that now, and James and Dom aren't here, so I merely flick my hair and lengthen my stride so that Malfoy understands that nothing he has to say interests me.

* * *

I am so sick and tired of Weasley and her trying to psych me out.

My grandmother.

The person she admires most on the planet.

Like hell.

When we get back to the common room, I expect her to get right back to her homework; not that she needs to practise the Hair Colour Change Spell that we've been set in Transfiguration. She, of course, was able to perfect it in the lesson. But, true to form, Weasley surprises me again. Lighting the fire with a flick of my wand, with a sharp jab she summons herself a Butterbeer and drops onto the sofa, having flicked the cap off. Taking a long swig, she suddenly seems to remember my presence. She looks round at me, holds the Butterbeer up and asks, quite jovially, "Want one Malfoy?"

I won't give her the satisfaction of letting her know she's taken me by surprise. I merely shrug, and flop down on the sofa also; the other end, as far away from Weasley as is physically possible. She summons a Butterbeer for me as well, and hands it to me. I must say, I'm impressed. Not by her magic, a fourth year could do it, but by the fact that she's managed not to spout any nonsense in at least fifteen minutes.

"It must be so lonely not having any friends" she says, after a long, perfectly agreeable silence.

Well, all good things have to come to an end.

"What are you talking about Weasley?" I ask tiredly, not wishing to start a big thing with her at this time of night, not on the first day of lessons. "I have plenty of friends"

"No. You have minions, Malfoy, there's a big difference"

"And you have family Weasley, not friends. There's a big difference."

For once Rose Weasley doesn't reply. And I feel that my work for the night is done.

* * *

I don't think Malfoy has any idea how much that hurt. He looks like he's about to leave for his room but I stop him.

"Tell me what you meant by that" I demand, feeling pressure behind my eyes. I will not cry. I haven't cried since I was two years old, and I'm not about to start again now.

"It's simple really, Weasley. You have no friends. You have family. And books. Pathetic, really" Malfoy sneers, banishing his empty Butterbeer bottle away.

"You can't really talk Malfoy. At least I've got my family. You've got no-one" I retort, knowing that I sound about nine years old.

"I've got alcohol, Weasley. When you grow up, you'll find that it's the only thing you really need to make you happy" Malfoy replies, looking at me with a mixture of pity (15) and revulsion. (85)

"Dear Merlin, Malfoy. An alcoholic at seventeen? And there was me thinking that you could sink no lower" I bite back, perfectly aware that the two of us are now standing about a foot away from each other, face to face, with wands in duelling positions.

"Maybe if you'd tried something a hint stronger then Butterbeer you'd understand the relief that alcohol brings from uptight bitches such as yourself."

I can tell that he's a few seconds away from unleashing some ridiculously Dark Magic on me.

"Oh please Malfoy" I mock, "Enlighten my poor soul"

As soon as I say it I realise I've walked straight into his trap, from the steely glint in his cold eyes to the malicious smirk that has played around on his lips since the very day we met.

"Oh Weasley" he replies softly, "You have no idea how much fun we're about to have"

Oh. Dear. Merlin.

What exactly have I got myself into?

* * *

Weasley is irrecoverably drunk. I, myself, am not exactly sober. She's sprawled on the sofa, as am I, although a lot closer to her than I was earlier. For the past half an hour I've only heard incoherent muttering from her, but all of a sudden she sits up and says, quite articulately, "I hate my Patronus"

If I wasn't so drunk I might bite back that there's another portion of the DADA syllabus she needn't bother learning this year, seeing as how she already knows it. As it is, I just murmur, "Why?" and take another massive gulp of Firewhisky, which burns the back of my throat, makes my eyes water, but essentially stops the drum beat that's playing in my head.

"It's a horse" she slurs, "I wanted an eagle, but Harry said that it only changes in times of 'great emotional upheaval'" She attempts the air quotes, loses her balance and falls off the sofa, giggling.

I never knew Weasley could giggle. I've heard that dry, sarcastic laugh many millions of times, but never a proper girly giggle.

I offer her a hand and drag her back onto the sofa. She collapses, pretty much on me, and I realise what she said about her weight earlier is quite true. The girl really is light.

"Malfoy?" she asks sleepily, and I mumble back.

"Why do you hate me so much?" she yawns, and I offer her the bottle on the table next to me. She doesn't choke drinking it this time, but still winces, while I just don't reply.

"It's not really fair of you to hate me so much and not tell me why" she flares up, and I'm surprised that the Firewhisky has had that quick of an effect on her.

"'Cus" I reply simply, "You're smart, and quick witted, and you play Quidditch, and you're pretty. You're a female version of me"

I don't think that Rose hears my litany of her good qualities.

She appears to have passed out.


	3. Of Classes and Kisses

**A/N: So kick me for having too much free time on my hands! I just felt like I had to update because I got reviews. Which almost made me cry. You people are just too nice for words. Anyways, as i forgot first time round, I just want to dedicate this to ****Josephinee for teaching me that Scorpius/Rose is the way to go. Oh, and also to Noc007, for being my first ever reviewer, ever.**

**And also, for the POV thing, we always start with Rose and alternate between her and Scorpius.**

**Disclaimer: I'm going to make it my aim in life to think of as many different ways to say the words 'I do not own Harry Potter' as is physically possible.**

There are two beaters inside my head and they insist on frequently whacking the bludger against my skull.

I might have just eaten about fifty bowtruckles, complete with scratching fingernails, since that's how much pain my throat is in right now.

And, I appear to have slept on the sofa.

In a not-too-comfortable position.

All night.

Next to somebody.

I turn, and curse light for ever having been invented, that's how much my eyes burn.

Then, I see that white blonde hair and want to throw up.

So, I go to the bathroom and do so.

Wow.

I always did say that the sight of Malfoy would make me vomit one day.

Or maybe that's the fifteen gallons of Firewhisky he plied me with last night?

Even brushing my teeth hurts, for some whatever reason.

_Mental note to self: Next time, just let Malfoy win the argument, because this really isn't worth it._

He's still sprawled out on the sofa, looking much better than I feel, when I go back in.

It's quarter to eight, but I'm going down to breakfast now. I get the feeling that I either said or did something ridiculous last night, and I don't particularly want to face Malfoy in the delicate state that I'm currently in, so, I tiptoe out of the portrait hole, school bag in tow, my Arithmancy and Charms textbooks somehow feeling a lot heavier than they normally do, and the staircases seeming much longer than usual.

There is no sign of Lily or Al yet; even my little brother Hugo might have been somebody to talk to, so I just sit at the Gryffindor table and pour myself coffee.

Lots of it.

Strong and black.

My theory is that, if I drink as much coffee as I drank Firewhisky last night, some vital balance in my body will be restored, and I'll no longer feel like death warmed up.

I might need more coffee than is in this pot.

* * *

Weasley's gone when I wake up.

Big surprise.

It is also quarter to nine, so I drag myself off the sofa, run a hand through my hair, and change.

Unlike Weasley, I am no lightweight when it comes to alcohol, so although I feel a little rough, I manage to look like my normal charming self. When I catch sight of Weasley at the Gryffindor table, having made it to the Great Hall about six minutes before the first class begins, she does not look good, which makes me feel one hundred times better about myself.

Mariah looks almost hysterical when I sit down at the table to eat a hurried breakfast. The second I touch the bench, she's fawning all over me, flicking my fringe out of my eyes and generally fussing over me in a way that my mother never did.

And I'm glad that mother never did it, so I sure don't want Mariah doing it either.

"Scorpius" she drones, "You don't look good. Are you okay? How come you're so late to breakfast?"

I so do not want to be here right now.

"Shut up, Mariah" I snap, not feeling particularly hungry, and wanting to go back to bed. "Alcohol, what else?"

"Aaw" she pouts, pushing cereal around in her bowl, not eating, as usual. "You had a Firewhisky party without me?"

"No, I made an attempt at loosening up Weasley. I don't think it worked. She's still sitting over there looking like she's got a broom stuck up her arse."

Oh dear. I really need to learn to control my temper.

Especially where Weasley's concerned.

Mariah shoots a death glare, the one that only girls can do, at Weasley, who reciprocates, even in her only-just-sober state.

Glad to see I haven't damaged her.

Even when she looks at me with a scowl to rival that of the famous Basilisk.

As the bell goes, and Weasley moves off for one of her a thousand NEWT classes, Mariah snuggles up to me and asks if I want to do anything during our free period.

I completely see red.

I could have had an extra hour of sleep.

* * *

Thank Merlin for Arithmancy. One of the two classes I take that Malfoy doesn't (the other being Ancient Runes.)

However, there is also no Al.

I take Arithmancy because my mom took it and loved it.

I take it, and don't hate it.

I really don't understand why I continued it at NEWT.

I suppose it was the look on my parents' faces when they saw my OWL result on the parchment: another 'O.'

My mom, she looked so happy.

And my dad was so proud that I'd finally managed to beat James at something (I've been beaten by James in every little thing I've ever done, since before I was born.)

And Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur were so proud of me.

So, I couldn't tell anyone that the subject just doesn't light up my life.

I don't struggle or anything, I'm just not enthralled by it the way that I am by some of my other classes.

As usual, Arithmancy provides welcome relief, which I really need today. I just keep my head down, and try to shake off the rubbishy feeling inside my body.

Like usual, our Arithmancy professor doesn't look to me to answer his questions. Normally, this is because I answer in a deadpan tone, devoid of any enthusiasm.

Today it's because any idiot can see that I've got a hangover.

Even Al was able to tell that I drank an absurdly large amount of alcohol last night.

And he is the epitome of naivety.

Which I've always considered a bit weird, because Harry and Ginny don't really mind what their kids get up to, a situation which James and Lily take full advantage of.

Not Al though.

I always thought that he should have been my brother and that Hugo should have James and Lily.

Ouch.

There goes the bell again.

That means a few things.

One. My head hurts again.

Two. Charms means that I might have to concentrate.

Three. Charms means Malfoy.

Damn.

The good girl inside of me needs to get there early, as usual, just to prove my worth.

But, the bad girl in me demands to sulk along, because she wants to avoid Malfoy like the plague.

* * *

She looks better when she enters Charms.

But she did turn up three minutes late.

Not that Professor Creevy would ever notice.

And even if he did, she's the perfect Rose Weasley, he'd probably just be worried that she's ill.

I, unlike her, look like my complete usual self.

An extra hour in your own bed, without a girl lying on top of you, is usually good.

Hmm.

That'd be a nice little rumour to start.

_Rose Weasley slept with Scorpius Malfoy._

All it would take is a whisper in the right ear and the Hogwarts rumour mill would do the rest.

I'll just wait and see exactly how much she irritates me today.

As she sidles into the seat next to her cousin, Creevy asks what the verbal incantation that gifts animals with speech is.

Even hung-over Weasley manages to get her hand into the air faster than the speed of sound, as is proven by the whooshing sound her robes make, as Creevy nods and points at her.

Even though he's only asked for an incantation, she feels compelled to explain that Parselmouths can indeed speak to snakes with no incantation necessary, something I rather think that a group of seventh year witches and wizards may have already grasped.

Why is it that she always finds it obligatory to add that extra little bit of information, like she's swallowed a spellbook?

The class drags, as usual, and Rose Weasley is the only person that manages to get her beetle to speak, again, as usual. Creevy gives her a kitten to work on, because apparently the magic I more difficult on vertebrates.

I've half a mind to just stamp on my beetle.

Who really wants to know what it's thinking anyway?

I realise now what it is that annoys me so much about her.

The look on her face, when she knows that she can do no wrong.

* * *

I wish, so badly, that I had a different timetable.

Because, nearly every time that I start to feel better about myself, Malfoy's head pops up, looking charming and suave, and I really feel the need to vomit again.

Thank Merlin for my emotional crutch, Al. Without him, I have no idea what I'd do.

Professor Thomas takes Defence against the Dark Arts; he's an old friend of my mom and dad's and went to school with them. I knew him really quite well before I came to Hogwarts, and since he only started teaching in my third year, he sometimes slips into a familiarity that is somewhat inappropriate for a Professor and student in class.

"Rosie Posie" he says, since I've raised my hand to ask a question. There are sniggers from all over the classroom, mainly concentrated at the Slytherin desks, but even a little chuckle escapes from Al. Dean, or Professor Thomas, whichever is more appropriate for the occasion, flushes slightly, but holds up a hand to silence the snickering.

"I was just wondering, sir" I add and extra bit of emphasis on the 'sir' to show everyone that I still treat Dean/Professor Thomas the same way that they do, even if he has known me since I was born. "How you think the outcome of the Battle of Hogwarts might have changed if Narcissa Malfoy had told Voldemort that Harry wasn't dead?" I finish, and there is an intake of breath rivalling a small hurricane from Malfoy's side of the room. Even Al, next to me, nudges me to let me know that he thinks I've crossed the line.

"Erm, Miss Weasley" There's a definite flash in Dean Thomas' eyes as he answers me, and infinite emphasis on the 'Miss'. "Although related to the topic that we're studying, that is a question that ought not to be asked in class, especially under our circumstances"

What?

Does he mean because Al and Malfoy are here?

Because, to me, this is just a class, and mine is a perfectly valid question, even if the offspring of the subjects are sitting in the same room as me.

* * *

Thank Merlin that Defence Against the Dark Arts was the last lesson of the day. Although, just my luck, I get to go and spend the entire evening with her.

Surprise, surprise, Weasley has next to no homework from her classes, even though the rest of the seventh year is already drowning in a sea of schoolwork.

So, whilst I'm cross-referencing potions ingredients for an essay, all her homework is in a neat pile on the coffee table, and Weasley's taking great pleasure in conversing with her owl, which she has charmed to speak.

"I always wondered why you called me Echo" the owl says and even though I've got a massive pile of homework, I feel myself getting drawn into their conversation, mundane as it is.

"Oh! Don't you like it?" Weasley looks horrified, like she's done the bird some great injury. "We can change it is you like. What would you prefer?"

"Oh no" the owl replies, and the pair of them are becoming quite distractive. "I like the name, it's always just intrigued -" The owl is cut off, and what should have been the word 'me' is now an unintelligible squawk. Did anyone mention that it's only a temporary charm?

As Weasley goes to re-charm her delightful feathered friend, I reach out and grab her wrist.

"If you don't mind, Rosie Posie" I drawl, "I'd rather if your owl shut up for a bit. Not all of us can do our homework in ten minutes, you see" She is just as aware as I am that I'm still holding onto her delicate little wrist, and she isn't making any attempt to move it.

"I'll take Echo to my room then Malfoy" she decides finally, her owl clearly more worthy than human company.

Or, my company.

As she's leaving I can't concentrate either, what with all her rustling and making noise. When I look up again she's staring intently at the essay I'm writing. Then, she notices that I'm watching her, and she turns to leave.

But, as she disappears through her bedroom door, I'm sure I hear the words, "You forgot to add the mayfly wings"

* * *

No.

I do not have a life.

And yes.

I am choosing to continually charm my owl to speak over the company of a fellow human being.

If you can call Scorpius Malfoy human.

Although, I wish I could have kept my mouth shut about the mayfly wings.

I sounded just like my mother.

"So, why Echo?" The owl resumes our conversation, fluffing her wings, as I sit on the end of my bed.

"Because of Lily" I reply, paying less attention to her, than my own reflection, I'm afraid to say. Echo just looks at me like I'm crazy, which is strange, seeing as though she's an owl.

"Oh, it's a pet name for Lil" I explain, "Because she had a bit of a phase where she followed me around everywhere, repeating me. And then, when Aunt Ginny gave you to me, you looked at me with your big amber eyes and ohmygosh, you looked so much like her, so Echo it was."

To my absolute horror, there is a slow clapping from my main doorway and the bane of the earth, Scorpius Malfoy, is standing there, with a look of sheer delight on his face.

"Rosie, that is so touching" He puts a hand over the place where his heart should be, and fakes wiping away a tear.

My hand is on my wand automatically, but Malfoy is there faster. Pointing his own wand at my throat he drawls "Put the wand down Weasley, and I might not hurt you so much"

And, as I don't have a death wish, I do as he says.

He moves towards the bed where I'm sitting and, sadly for me, my charm on Echo has worn off, so she's no help.

"You, Weasley," Malfoy says, with a noticeable lack of snarl, "Are starting to annoy me. Not that you haven't since Day One, but even more so right now."

I'm barely breathing.

Louis once cast a very awful Cruciatus Curse in me, which was more like a Tickling Charm. (Don't worry, he was ridiculously drunk, he wasn't trying to cast an Unforgivable on me for real.)

I don't however, want to tempt Malfoy, especially since he has a lot of malice to pour into an Unforgivable Curse, if he chooses to use one.

"And now, you're going to pay for getting in my way for six whole years"

I'm not going to say that my life flashes before me; all that happens is that I open my mouth to scream.

And Scorpius Malfoy kisses me.

* * *

I don't know what I'm doing.

I meant to curse her.

I meant to hex her into oblivion.

Yet here I am, kissing the girl.

And her hair is in my fingers, and her pulse is about three hundred beats per minute, and why can't I stop this?

Being Weasley, she takes control, of course, pulling her head away.

She looks at me, and I can't even begin to fathom what is going on in her head.

And then, from out of nowhere, her open palm stings my cheek and she glares up at me with unfounded venom.

"Get out of my room Malfoy" she orders, her voice dangerously low, yet steady.

I don't waste any time, but get the hell out of there the fastest I can without running.

Staring at the pile of work in front of me, I replay the last few minutes in my head.

_She makes the snarky comment_ _about my potions essay and leaves, I follow her and listen to her sentimental conversation with her owl, I interrupt and she goes for her wand, I get my wand first, point it at her throat. I tell her I'll let her off lightly if she puts her wand down, she does, I speak, she opens her mouth to scream. _

At this point in my mind, I snarl an incantation, something like the Cruciatus, and she's left writhing in pain, while I go back to finish my essay.

Only, that never really happened, for some reason.

For some deluded reason, I kiss her.

I think that years of continuous drinking has finally taken its toll on me.

Because my brain is addled.

Perhaps, if I ignore it the fact that it happened, forever, it'll go away?

The alternative is to find a Time Turner and prevent myself from committing that travesty in the first place.

Merlin.

My face hurts from where she slapped me.

I know that we're destined to be enemies, I've known it since I was eleven years old.

And that set up has served us perfectly for six years.

And it will carry on.

Now that I've got that little 'glitch' out of my system.

I pick up the essay that I had abandoned, dip my quill in some ink and continue, remembering to include the step about the mayfly wings.

* * *

I don't want to sit around in my room until nine o' clock, but I have to. Doing anything else would mean interaction with Malfoy, which I'm attempting to avoid, at all costs.

So, I just open up a book, and start reading.

I have no idea what it is, but it's a book, with print on the pages, so very shortly I'm engrossed. So engrossed, in fact, that it takes quite a few sharps taps on my door for me to notice that someone wants me.

"Erm, come in" I say, shutting 'Defensive Magical Theory', a book my mother had lent me, with a vision of my comprehension of why she, dad and Uncle Harry had set up Dumbledore's Army.

It's Malfoy.

I'm not happy.

"I see you've learnt to knock, Malfoy" I comment sourly, avoiding looking at any part of him, but especially his face.

"Charming as ever, Weasley. I don't know why we're not good friends" he drawls, not crossing the threshold, like some sort of vampire.

"Good friends tend to enjoy one another's company, Malfoy. I've just been thrust into yours, and no, I'm not happy about it" I reply, irritated, tired and angered slightly by what I'd been reading in the textbook.

"I'm afraid it's one of those such times, Weasley" Malfoy says, with a hint of genuine annoyance in his voice. "It's nine o' clock, we've got to go."

They say Time flies when you're having fun.

I just want to know exactly what Time flies on.

A forty year old Cleensweep?

Because, the rate at which the aforementioned Time is flying whilst Malfoy and I carry out our patrol, is about the same as on said Cleensweep, through golden syrup, surrounded by a flock of adoring fans, in a land where an hour is six hundred minutes, as opposed to sixty.

Maybe that's because 'fun' isn't one word that I'd use to describe our patrol.

Tiresome, boring, unnecessary.

Those are only three of the words that spring to mind when I think about climbing all those flights of stairs with Malfoy in tow.

After the 'conversation' in my room, we don't say another word to each other for the entire night.

* * *

The amount of times I've cheated on Mariah is barely countable. It's not as if she expects fidelity from me. And I don't expect it from her in return. Naturally, when I'm with pretty girls and they flirt, and they tease, one thing leads to another and I often end up in compromising positions.

And even though I only kissed Weasley, and it lasted about thirty seconds, and nothing came from it, my infidelity right now bothers me.

Because she's everything that I've never wanted in a girl; intelligent, sarcastic, a Gryffindor, a Weasley.

Old prejudices don't do so easily as you might think.

Okay, so my father doesn't feel the need to jinx Ron Weasley every time they cross each other's paths at the Ministry, but neither has he ever invited him round to the Manor for tea and scones.

The way that they will never have a relationship that could be described as more than civil, that's the same way that Weasley and I will never have a relationship that could be described as anything other than enmity.

She scurries away to her bedroom as soon as she's through the portrait hole. I'd never have expected Weasley to be weakened so fatally by one kiss.

But then, she's just so full of surprises.

My homework still isn't finished when we return and I settle down to another few hours of charms, hexes, anti-jinxes and the correct composition of Felix Felicis.

Delightful.

I have other things on my mind, however.

Like the fact that her mouth has been on mine.

The notion is sickening.

This leads to a lack of concentration.

This, in turn, leads to boredom.

I realise how uneventful life is when there's no Weasley around to taunt.

I slam my DADA textbook shut, since I've read the same paragraph at least fifteen times.

In my bedroom I open my trunk, lovingly extract my Mercury 2020, open the window and fly straight out of it.

Night-flying soothes my nerves, and tonight is definitely one of those nights where I need to relax as much as possible.

* * *

Soaring around the Quidditch goals, flying next to the Astronomy tower, just sitting still fifty feet above the ground.

Nothing can calm me more.

I even manage to forget the fact that I'm Head Girl and therefore, if I get caught, I'm in serious trouble.

No.

It's just me, my broom, and the night sky.

I'm floating lazily above the Quidditch pitch when I hear the whooshing noise that accompanies flight.

It's not me, I'm stationary.

That means that it's someone else.

I bite back the Head Girl voice that's condemning their actions; it would be hypocritical to the core.

I'm surprised, yet glad, that someone else shares my passion for flying through the darkness.

So, I follow the noise of their broom, thinking maybe I can talk to them.

They start their descent near the Forest, so I gently and quietly dive after them.

"Hey" I call out, after dismounting, and shouldering my broom. The figure turns towards me, and even through the darkness I can see that shining white blonde hair, his piercing grey eyes reflecting the moonlight.

"Weasley?" Malfoy replies incredulously, walking towards me.

My own feet are planted firmly on the ground. I must look like I've been Petrified.

"Malfoy?" My voice is caught in my throat. I want to turn and run, but I physically can't.

We stare at one another for few seconds before simultaneously spitting,

"What do you think you're doing?"

Neither of us reply. I, because, I don't actually know what I'm doing and he, I'm sure, because he thinks he's above answering to me.

"Whoever would have thought that Rose Weasley would be so big on breaking school rules?" Malfoy drawls, his smirk still quite visible, even in the darkness.

I don't know what to say.

My voice keeps getting stuck in my throat.

I need to get out of here.

* * *

"So Weasley" I ask, sneering at the girl who looks like a deer caught in headlights, "Why isn't our Head Girl tucked up in her red and gold sheets, dreaming of school awards and homework?"

Every time she opens her mouth to reply, she clearly realises that what she has to say isn't scathing enough, and ends up closing her mouth, looking like a goldfish, quite a few times, before she whispers,

"We should go back in. We'll get into trouble if we get found."

Now there's the Rose Weasley we all know and hate.

"Why exactly do you always need to be so perfect?" I drawl, as she gets redder and redder, due to excitement or embarrassment, or some other ludicrous girly emotion.

"I'm nowhere near perfect, Malfoy" she murmurs back at the ground, rather than me.

"Then please explain to me why you feel the need to act like it all the time" I ask sourly, knowing exactly why she can't look me in the eye.

"Because" she starts, and her voice is wobbly, "Because I'm not worthy of attention. Because I'm one child in a bunch of about twenty. Because there's nothing noticeable about me. Because my mother is Hermione Granger, the greatest witch of her age. Just, because."

Her voice gets shriller and shriller with each passing statement and I'm slightly worried that she's going to breakdown, a situation, needless to say, I am quite unfamiliar with.

"Alright, Weasley, I get it" I don't.

"Everything in your life is crap" It isn't.

"Nobody will ever notice you" But, they will.

Everything I say to her is a lie, and she knows it.

She doesn't reply, just glowers at me, sits on her broom and kicks off sharply, so that she's flying back towards our windows, her red hair shining in the moonlight.

If there's one girl I understand less than all the rest, it's Weasley.

**A/N: And no, I didn't forget QuickQuotesQuill07 (What is it they say about leaving the best til last?) because your review was actuallly the sweetest thing ever and is what prompted me to get out of bed at 8.30 this morning and write, as opposed to stay in bed for a few more hours.  
But, thank you to everyone who has reviewed, not just the people I've personally mentioned; you're all great and I love you to pieces.**


	4. Of Rumours and Prefects

**A/N: Hello again, to the wonderful world of fanfic. This is a shorter chapter than the previous two, which I'm sorry for, but it can't be helped, because I have a tedious history exam tomorrow, for which I've actually had to study.**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter n'est pas de moi, I thought I'd disclaim in the language of love because this fanfic falls under the romance category.**

You have no idea how ashamed I am of my miniature mental breakdown in front of Malfoy last night. The pain of it is still residing in my head when I go to breakfast the next morning.

"Morning 'sis" Hugo is as loud as ever, which doesn't help the fact that I got about three hours sleep last night. As payback I ruffle his hair as I sit at the table. He yelps and hurriedly flattens it, checking his reflection in the back of a spoon. Dear Merlin. We've another James.

And the irony is that as soon as I think of my cousin James, the anti-James flops onto the opposite side of the bench to me.

"Albus Severus" I greet roughly, "Clang that goblet and I'm writing to your parents about-"

I stop. There is nothing Al ever does wrong for me to tell on him about.

"To tell them that you let Lily kiss a Slytherin" I finish triumphantly, satisfied with my fabrication.

"What!" Al jumps half a foot in the air. "Rose! That's completely out of order. You know I'd die before I let Lily be touched by one of-"

He is cut of by a murderous glare from his sister, who has arrived at breakfast looking dishevelled and out of breath.

"Excuse me, Albus. Was there a conversation involving me going on?" Lily looks to Hugo, who fills her in right away.

"Rose's in a foul mood. Clearly PMS or something, because she apparently isn't a fan of loud noise this morning. So, she threatened to tell your parents that you'd kissed a Slytherin, if Al bangs his goblet. He evidently thinks she's being unreasonable."

Hugo finished with a dazzling grin, and two fourth year Hufflepuffs at the next table swoon.

Both Lily and I look repulsed.

Hugo?

Our Hugo?

No way.

Neither of us has ever understood the attraction.

Lily seems to have settled herself; she's no longer looking like a homicidal maniac, anyway.

Al retaliates under his breath, "Just because you've never been kissed Rose"

Everyone, of any importance to me, in the very least, hears.

I glare at Al.

"And, what would you know about it?" I demand, as Al makes a special effort to clang his golden goblet, so that there is a tremendous racket inside my head.

"Go on then. Name one wizard that you've kissed" Al goads, assuming that I won't be able to.

I don't know why I do it.

But I stop spreading the honey on my toast, look up calmly and reply,

"Scorpius Malfoy."

* * *

There's a buzz of chatter as I enter Potions. Some may describe me as conceited, but I'm in no way egotistical enough to attribute the talking to myself. That is, until a Hufflepuff 'covertly' points at me, holds her hand up to her mouth and whispers something to the boy sitting next to her.

At this point I realise I am once again the subject of Hogwarts gossip.

Marvellous.

So, as I slide into my usual seat next to Mariah, (Merlin only knows how she got an OWL grade good enough to continue to NEWT) I'm ready for her usual excitable giggle, since she is normally a minefield of information when it comes to mindless gossip.

Today, her expression can be described only as cold.

And when I attempt to slip my arm around her waist, she shrugs me off.

Oh dear.

So un-Mariah like.

"Look, Mariah, if this is about the Spanish girl I met- " I'm not even given time to intone my apologies before she snaps at me, "I don't care if you sleep with Spanish girls, Malfoy"

Ouch.

I've never been Malfoy to Mariah.

It's always Scorpius, or Scorp, or Scor, or some other stupid variation on my first name.

"So, if it's not about the Spanish girl?" I ask, because I know I haven't told anyone about the Italian or French witches. (Three different nationalities in one summer seemed a little too, skanky, somehow.)

"It's about her" Mariah hisses, and her eyes flick to the other side of the dungeon, to Rose Weasley. Weasley, who is sitting as far away from her beloved cousin as two people can at one desk.

"Whatever she said, I didn't do it" I reply, wondering what the lying cow had said about me now.

"So," Mariah says acidly, "This little kiss that the two of you apparently shared, that never happened?"

Merlin.

What exactly has Weasley said?

"Mariah, I can explain- " I begin, as Professor Lorento glides into the room, and silence falls.

* * *

Al's never not talked to me before. Somehow, we've just never fought. Even when we couldn't speak, we were always there for each other, and now he's giving me the cold shoulder, I don't know what to do.

Whoever thought that Al would get so touchy?

Everyone's always known that James has a problem with Slytherin, Malfoy, even the colour combination of silver and green.

And I am not unknown for upholding the family grudge, much to Grandpa Arthur's chagrin.

But Al?

I mean, I know it isn't exactly his fantasy for any of us; me, Lils, Molly, Lucy, any of us, to fall in love with a Slytherin, but whoever said I was in love with Scorpius Malfoy?

Any sane person with three brain cells can see that Malfoy and I loathe one another.

I just mope through the next few lessons; at the least the challenge of Ancient Runes, and the fact that Al isn't there to ignore me, can distract me.

And then, there's homework.

And the first of many weekly prefect meetings.

Already my diary is spinning out of control, and we've been back at school only a few days.

Keeping busy means that I can forget. Not that I should forget Quidditch tryouts.

I never expected to be Captain (even though I secretly hoped for it) since half my family is on the team, and I'm already Head Girl, so I'm still proud of Freddie.

Uncle George had said, after the letter had come, that Uncle Fred would have been the proudest man alive, if he could have seen the badge shining on Freddie's robes.

Nobody bothered to say that if Uncle Fred had been alive, it might have been his kid's chest that the badge was pinned to.

Because, yes, maybe the Weasley's aren't renowned for having the social prowess of the upper class, but neither are we tactless.

* * *

I manage to corner Weasley in the classroom where we're holding the first prefects' meeting. She is early, no surprises there, so I am too on purpose, to catch her, since it's like she's been avoiding me all day.

She's fiddling again, this time with the position of the chairs in the room, and I'm worried that I'm going to have to physically make her listen to me, because she's not responding to her name.

"Weasley!" I all but yell, and finally her attention snaps to me.

"What, Malfoy?" she demands, desperately attempting to look like she's doing something useful, rather than hiding from me.

"Well, I don't know if you'd heard Weasley" I start bitterly, "But it seems that somebody let slip at their House Table, this morning at breakfast, that their mouth had been on mine"

I can't fathom her expression, it's a mixture worry, boredom, smugness, and another emotion, one that I'm not familiar with, one I can't work out.

"Look, Malfoy" she replies coldly, "We're both grown ups, are we not? So, this stupid little random mistake should not be affecting out lives the way that it is, right? So, how about we forget all about it, and go back to how we used to be?"

"I never said it was messing my life up Weasley" I say, looking at the emotional train wreck of a seventeen year old girl in front of me.

"Oh."

That's all she can manage.

A gentle 'oh' of surprise, and then silence, until the prefect's begin to filter in and take seats around the table in the middle of the room.

Something tells me that Weasley's being affected a lot more by last night than I am.

And for my sake, rather than anyone else', I'm determined to get to the bottom of it.

* * *

"So" I say breezily, "Malfoy and I just want to let you know that you can come and ask us anything you like, not just regarding being a prefect, but if you've got problems too, because that's what we're here for."

Malfoy glares murderously; their emotional welfare was not part of our pre-determined speech.

"Anybody got any questions?" Malfoy asks roughly, which all the prefects take as 'Don't you dare ask me anything, I want to get out of here as quickly as is physically possible.'

All the prefects except one, that is.

"Yes, Potter?" Malfoy asks wearily of Lily, who is sitting slouched back in her chair, looking exactly like James.

But a girl, obviously.

And with red hair.

Okay, not physically like James.

But, spiritually.

"Malfoy, are you seeing my cousin?" she asks lazily, her eyes flicking from me to Malfoy.

"Lily" I say, struggling to keep the smile on my face from sliding off, "When Malfoy asked whether anyone had any questions, he meant relating to prefect duties."

"Actually, I believe it was you who said if we had any problems to ask you about them" Lily retorts calmly, which is unusual, to say the very least. By now, she's generally got the angry Veela look going on.

"Erm, meeting dismissed" I hear Malfoy mutter, and then there's a scraping of chairs against the floor, and people murmuring 'goodbyes' but I don't see them leave, because I'm too busy focusing all my energy on Lily.

"This has nothing to do with neither your emotional welfare, nor any problem of yours, Lily, so please drop it."

It's not a request, it's not a demand.

It's rationality, which Lily knows will always beat her.

"This is actually about my emotional welfare, Rose. You're not the one who has to go and sit in the common room with Al huffing and puffing because he doesn't know what's going on in my life anymore.

And in typical Lily Potter style, she whirls out of the classroom, leaving me all alone.

* * *

"Have a nice chat with mini-Potter?" I ask, as Weasley climbs through the portrait hole, minutes after me.

"Haven't you got a cauldron you can go and boil you head in, Malfoy?" she retorts, with a very dark look on her face.

I'm talking thunderstorm dark.

"We've already had the conversation about your charm, haven't we Weasley?" Before she can come up with some pathetic come back, I continue, "So did you tell mini-Potter all about Scorpius Malfoy and how amazingly good he is in bed?"

The puzzled look on her face is almost cute, and then realisation dawns.

"Malfoy?" she asks, sort of tentatively, "Have you told the entire school that I've slept with you?"

"No" I reply, perfectly truthfully, "I told Mariah, who told a friend in Slytherin, who told an acquaintance in Ravenclaw, who told a sister in Hufflepuff, who told a boyfriend in Gryffindor."

I don't see Rose Weasley fly at me until she is actually on top of me, scratching me better than her little yellow birds ever did, which, when added to her salty tears, is really rather painful.

Insanity doesn't even begin to describe it.

"I can't believe you!" she's screeching, "You've ruined my life!"

I manage to clamp her wrists together in front of her chest, and I breathe deeply, or we might get drawn into a shouting match.

"For Merlin's sake Weasley" I exclaim, "Calm down. It was supposed to be a joke. I mean, you tell your House that I've kissed you, and I tell my girlfriend that I've slept with you. An eye for an eye, and all"

She's stopped crying, and through gritted teeth she manages to enunciate,

"You're warped, Malfoy" before running of to have a marathon crying session in her bedroom.

* * *

He's crossed a line now.

Telling his stupid, gossiping, airhead, bimbo of a girlfriend that I slept with him.

He wishes.

I can't believe I cried in front of him.

For the first time in fifteen years.

I can't decide whether the shame of that, or the anger of his malicious rumour is burning more strongly in me.

"Rose!"

I jump at the sound of my name. There's no-one else in my room, and Malfoy has never called me by my first name.

"In the fire. What? Did you lose your brain as well as you virginity?" a familiar voice hisses.

It's James.

I'm about to open my mouth, to give him some semblance of an explanation, but he continues,

"You're so lucky that I'm not sending you a Howler. I'd expect one from your dad at breakfast tomorrow"

"James" I all but howl, and his face frowns in the fire, "My life is the biggest mess right now"

"Too right" James replies, "I'd count sleeping with Malfoy as a pretty elementary error"

"But, but, but-" I stutter, and then sob "I never!"

"Denying it isn't going to make it go away, Rose. Your dad is going absolutely flipping mental. He's over at mine right now. I swear, he looks like he's about to commit murder. Mom's having a whale of a time trying to calm him down"

"But James, I didn't" I repeat, more strongly this time, incensed by the fact that my father thinks my love life is anything to do with him, even if I had been sleeping with the slimeball.

"Try telling him that tomorrow morning when the whole school hears about it."

I'm schooling my thoughts into terms that even James might be able to understand, when he starts suddenly,

"Gotta go, Rose. I don't think that banging noise on the landing is an escaped rampaging Hippogriff."

He surveys me with one last disapproving stare, before his head disappears.

I don't think it needs saying.

I am livid.

* * *

When I knock on Weasley's door at nine o' clock there's no answer. So I try calling her name, but to no avail. Eventually, I mutter "Alohomora" and point my wand at her lock, then grab the handle and turn.

It doesn't work.

She must know an enchantment that I don't.

There's a shriek from inside the room, "Don't you even attempt to invade my privacy like that Malfoy!"

But still the door doesn't open.

"Come on Weasley" I say tiredly, "Stop playing games, we've still got a job to do, whether you hate me or not"

There's silence for a few seconds, followed by an unconvincing coughing noise, "I'm ill, for your information Malfoy"

I snort derisively; she's about as ill as I am unattractive.

"So what am I supposed to do then, Weasley? I'm not going on my own"

I assume that Weasley's need to obey rules will lead to her swallowing her pride and joining me for our daily 'bonding time.'

But no.

There are a few more seconds of silence, and then she says, "Take one of the prefects with you then. Just leave me alone"

I sigh, and seriously consider blasting her door into firewood and forcibly ejecting her from her room. Alas, that might spoil the cozy little illusion that I've managed to set up.

"Whatever you say, Weasley" I reply, with, what I think is, an incredible amount of self control.

So, I don't speak to her for the rest of the night.

In fact, I don't see her for the rest of the night.

I take a Slytherin prefect with me in her place and although there's no intelligent conversation, the kid's nice enough; any road, he's willing enough to keep telling everyone that he sees in the corridors that Weasley's sleeping with me.

I'm just spreading a bit of love in the world.


	5. Of Howlers and Professors

**A/N: My history exam was horrific, so I decided that I'd come home and write some more, since I got more reviews, and was therefore happy. So thank you all very much, and don't stop with the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter no esta de yo. Spanish, to prove that in 2 years of studying it, I've learnt nothing.**

You know when you wake up on a beautiful autumn morning, and you glance out of your window where the leaves are starting to fall off the trees and the sky is clear and crisp?

And on those days, when you wake up, you have no troubles and the world seems perfect?

Well.

I wake up to the idyllic landscape.

And, for a few microseconds I manage to forget all the happenings of last night.

But then I take a massive gulp of air and the supply of oxygen kick-starts my brain.

Which leads to me remembering; not speaking to Al, Malfoy telling the whole school (in effect) that I'd slept with him, James' head in the fire.

At this point I want to curl up under my duvet and never ever have to face the light of day again.

And like the awful Gryffindor I am, I stay locked up in my room. I hear Malfoy moving around outside my door, and check the watch that my parents had given to me for my seventeenth birthday.

It's twenty to nine.

My body shivers impulsively.

If I hide in here any longer I'm going to miss the start of first period.

The mere thought makes me want to hyperventilate.

But, as I take calming breaths, I force myself to stay where I am.

If everybody thinks that Rose Weasley is so perfect, I'll prove them wrong.

All it takes is a little bit of willpower to shut myself in my room. After all, as Malfoy is so fond of telling me, I'm way ahead in the majority of my classes, so missing one day of lessons isn't exactly going to make me fall far behind.

So, with the true determination of a Gryffindor, if not the bravery, I light the fire in my room and curl up on my bed, my favourite book lying beside me, so that it's ready for me to read, after my little powernap.

Whoever said that seventeen is too old to be reading the Tales of Beedle the Bard?

* * *

I don't catch sight of the flash of red I usually see when I enter the Great Hall.

Actually, that's a lie, I see a flash of red, but it belongs to mini-Potter.

She looks up when I enter the Hall and frowns, like she'd been expecting Rose to turn up with me.

Then, a friend of hers, a blonde witch in her year, taps her on the arm and she turns around, distracted, but with her brow still furrowed.

Before I can take my place at Slytherin table, a stray owl lands at the Gryffindor table (post usually arrives at eight thirty five sharp, and it's now nearing quarter to nine.) There is a slight increase in volume from that side of the Hall, when the loud bang generally affiliated with a Howler, erupts, and the entire Hall turns to see who exactly is in trouble now.

"ROSE WEASLEY!" The voice from within the letter screams, and everybody sits up a little straighter, assuming that this has something to do with the new bit of gossip floating around in the corridors.

"I'VE GOT HALF A MIND TO PULL YOU OU OF SCHOOL RIGHT NOW"

So, these must be the dulcet tones of Ron Weasley.

"WHAT DID I SAY TO YOU?" the voice demands. "WASN'T IT '_DON'T GET TOO FRIENDLY WITH HIM ROSIE, GRANDAD WEASLEY WOULD NEVER FORGIVE YOU IF YOU MARRIED A PUREBLOOD_?"

Ah, so that's what their little conversation at Kings Cross had been about, all those years ago.

"BUT NO. YOU HAD TO GO ONE FURTHER THAN THAT, DIDN'T YOU? YOU HAD TO GO AND –"

The voice of the deranged elder Weasley is cut off by a softer one.

"Ronald, please. Don't even go there. This isn't the type of thing Rose needs the whole school hearing about, is it? Rose, we'll talk about this when you come home for Christmas"

With that, the Howler self-destructs, and the whole Great Hall dissolves into fits of laughter, whilst the Weasleys mutter darkly among themselves.

All except the subject of the Howler.

She's still nowhere to be seen.

* * *

I've successfully missed my first two classes, without going mad.

Well.

I did read a bit of my Transfiguration textbook, but only because McGonagall had already told us what we were going to be doing in the lesson, and it seemed a shame to miss the Disillusionment Charm, it's so useful.

So, I'm not biting my nails too badly when there is a sharp knock on the door which makes me jump.

"Malfoy!" I shout. "Go away! I'm still ill. Not that you care"

I double check the spell on my door, to make sure that he can't come in.

"Rosie? It's Professor Longbottom" the voice from the other side of my door replies, and my jaw drops.

Professor Longbottom, as in, my Head of House.

Making squealing noises that aren't particularly attractive, I flap about my room, doing nothing of any effect, but ridding myself of some pent-up nervous energy.

"Rosie?" There's Neville again, and I'm petrified that he's somehow found out about this stupid rumour, and thinks that I'm - well, you know.

"Look Neville" I say firmly, knowing that what I have to say next can be taken in a few different ways; I'm hoping that it's going to be taken in the right way. "I appreciate your concern, honestly. You're my Head of House, a close personal friend of my family, but really, it's just a case of the flu. A few days in bed and I'll be right back in that Greenhouse, helping out with the Venomous Tentacula and everything"

There's a muttering outside my door; Neville's always had this way of working problems out verbally. He follows this with a sigh.

"Miss Weasley, I must, as your Head of House, insist that you go to the Hospital Wing if you're ill"

Great.

He took it the 'I'm-a-figure-of-authority' way.

Exactly as I hoped he wouldn't.

I don't unlock the door.

For the first time in my life, I disobey a direct command from a teacher.

Actually, it feels quite good.

* * *

For the first time in my life I have a full on confrontation with Albus Potter.

Up until now I'd always thought of him as the reasonable type, much more difficult to provoke than his brother, and generally more level-headed.

Apparently not.

I'm sitting at the Slytherin table, eating lunch, perfectly normally, when there is a tap on my shoulder. Naturally, I turn round to see who it is, and Potter is glowering down at me.

"Malfoy, we need to talk" he says grimly, looking over at his entourage of red-headed support on the other side of the Hall. They all nod, and make chivvying actions with their hands, which I don't think I'm supposed to have noticed.

Potter clears his throat and adds, "About Rose"

"Oh, well if it's about the charming Miss Weasley" I start, laying down my soup spoon, "Then, of course, we need to talk."

He leads me out of the Great Hall, looking lost.

I get the feeling he's never really done this before.

It was more of James' forte, in fairness.

A quick stunner and a poor boy finds himself regaining consciousness with a piece of parchment stuffed in his robes bearing the words "Keep your filthy hands off my sister/cousin/friend"

I believe that James Potter even had the parchment professionally printed after a while, to minimise the time needed to threaten potential boyfriends, and just deleted his relationship to the victimized girl as was necessary.

Not Albus though.

He looks like he actually wants to speak to me.

"Look Malfoy. I know out family's have never seen eye to eye"

Talk about an understatement.

"But I want you to know that if being with Rose makes you happy then you should probably ask her out and make it official, rather than just, you know, sleeping with her"

"Oh" I reply, with a slight chuckle, "You thought that I had feelings for Rose?"

The poor boy looks confused out of his tiny little brain.

"No" I continue, "She's just very good in the sack"

To Potter's credit, I've never been knocked out quicker.

* * *

There is no warning.

My bedroom door just gets blasted into a million tiny splinters.

And in the place where my door used to be, with a look of utter fury etched into her wrinkled face, is Minerva McGonagall, my mother's most inspirational teacher, and witch extraordinaire.

I'm speechless.

Absolutely, completely and totally, one hundred percent speechless.

McGonagall makes the first move.

"Rose Weasley"

She doesn't yell my name, and neither does she just say it.

It's sort of a bark.

I gulp, and look at my toes.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you, girl" McGonagall demands, and she commands so much respect that I have to look up at her.

"Why exactly has my Head Girl spent all day encased in her bedroom?" she asks, and her quiet tone sends shivers up my spine.

I can do nothing more than mumble and stutter incoherently.

"Because some boy, some Slytherin, has been making up lies?"

How does she know these things?

"Do you think your mother ever locked herself in her room because of the disgusting things Draco Malfoy said to her?"

I knew it wouldn't be long before references to the great Hermione Granger (as she was in school) started.

"Pull yourself together girl!" she orders, before sweeping dramatically from my room, leaving my door in pieces on the floor.

"And I will expect you at dinner tonight, looking nothing less than satisfied with life" Her voice carries to my room as she crosses to the Portrait Hole, "Or there will be serious repercussions"

I'm so startled by the whole event that I don't dare move for a few minutes.

Then, when I've regained mobility in my exterior limbs, in the very least, I begin to pluck fragments of wood out of my hair and off my clothes.

It's all laughable really.

* * *

Being knocked out by somebody else's fist can be in no way described as medically beneficial.

At least, that is what the School Nurse, Madame Longbottom, tells me when I regain consciousness fifteen minutes after Potter punched me.

I gingerly sit up on the bed that I'd been placed on, only to have Madame Longbottom push me back into a lying position.

"Feel that" she says shrilly, guiding my fingers to my left temple, where they feel their way around a lump the size of a small dragon's egg.

"Whatever will I tell his parents?" Longbottom is muttering to herself, whilst bustling about, trying to find a potion for me.

"I mean, he's always been such a charming boy. Never hurt a fly. Never see him up here in the Hospital Wing. So polite and well-mannered"

Her attention turns sharply back to me, "What did you say to him to make him hit you like that?" she demands, forcing a potion into my hands.

"Aren't you supposed to be fair and impartial?" I ask, sipping at the potion, since it tastes like liquefied Doxy eggs.

Madame Longbottom glares at me, and replies, "Don't be so impertinent! I've known Albus Potter since before he was born, and he's one of the kindest, sweetest boys you'll ever wish to meet. And I knew your father too, Malfoy" she adds darkly.

I roll my eyes.

There it is again.

Scorpius Malfoy must be a carbon copy of Draco Malfoy, because he's his son.

What is that all about?

"I feel fine" I say brusquely, clearly knocking Madame Longbottom from her trail of thoughts about how magnificent Potter is. "Can I go?"

She doesn't seem like she can get rid of me quickly enough, she practically pushes me through the door, muttering after me, "And I don't expect to see you in her again, looking like that, Malfoy, or you'll have me to answer to"

And what exactly can she do to me?

* * *

I tell myself that by breathing deeply, and plastering a fake smile on my face everything will be okay.

I keep telling myself the same thing as I walk down the table, amid the evil glares of Malfoy's malevolent groupies, to my usual spot; between Lily and Hugo, and opposite Al.

When I sit down, I smile meekly up at McGonagall, to let her know that I'm here, at dinner, looking satisfied with life, exactly as she ordered.

She doesn't smile back; in fact, a small incline of the head is her only acknowledgement of my presence.

And now that she's seen me, I begin to shovel down cottage pie and peas in a most unladylike way (Aunt Fleur would probably faint if she saw me eat like that, I'd get a 'Zut, alors' in the very least) so that I can make a dash back upstairs in ten minutes, at the very most.

"Rose" Al mutters, moving his fork away from his mouth, "You're supposed to chew before you swallow"

In my immense relief that Al had muttered eight words directly at me, I sort of smile and attempt to speak at the same time, with the result that I end up choking on some peas. Hugo whacks me on the back (Has anyone noticed how that doesn't actually help, just hurts your back?) and green peas fly out of my mouth, landing on Al's plate, much to the disgust of Lily.

"Eurgh" she shivers, in typical drama queen style, while Al laughs, and picks out the peas that aren't his.

"Share and share alike, eh, Rose?" he quotes Grandma Molly, whose theory on life is that if you can't share it with family, it's not worth having in the first place.

"Exactly, Al. My peas are your peas" And all of a sudden, I do kind of feel sort of satisfied with life.

Lily raises an eyebrow and asks archly, "So. Have you two finished acting like two year olds? It was getting kind of tedious."

Like the big kids we are, our response is to stick our tongues out at Lily, while Hugo murmurs, bemused, "It was only two days, how could it have got tedious already?"

* * *

When I get to our common room, having been at dinner, and done my homework in the Slytherin common room with Mariah, by way of apology, I'm not surprised to see Weasley sitting on the sofa, happily scribbling away on some parchment, in front of a crackling fire. I am, however, surprised to see her door, or what was her door when I left this morning, shattered to pieces.

She seems to notice my dropped jaw, and says, quite pleasantly, "McGonagall stopped by for a chat"

My eyebrows raise, but I don't question her.

I don't know whether the right hook is a Weasley or Potter attribute, and I don't particularly what to find out any time soon.

"So" I ask tentatively, as she continues to write, "Are we quits now?"

Her face puckers up in thought for a little while, and she sighs quite deeply, before replying evenly, "If you think that we're quits after what you said about me, then you're delusional."

Before I can press my case, she steams on, "My assault with the birds was because of your little joke with that book. I haven't made you pay for the fact that you've been spreading ridiculous gossip, like a thirteen year old girl, might I add, about me all over the school."

"So, that whole thing last night? With the tears and the scratching?" I ask, and she smiles, which raises the hairs on the back of my neck.

"Oh, Malfoy, sweetie" she replies, shaking her head, "I've not even begun to punish you yet"

Having said this, she stalks over to her door, or what is left of it, and turning back to me, she waggles her fingers and sends me a little air kiss.

She unnerves me.

She really, really does.


	6. Of House Elves and Homework

**A/N: I'm so annoyed at the internet. I was going to update yesterday but things involving servers and all manner of technical stuff came up, and I couldn't access the internet, so I'm quite angry. Anyhow, thanks for all the reviews, I get happier and happier everytime I open my inbox, you're all stars.**

**Disclaimer: I don't speak any other foreign language than French and Spanish (Latin so doesn't count) so, i will have to disclaim in english. I think people would have noticed if I owned the best known story character of all time, so it should be quite clear that I don't.**

When you live in such close proximity to so many of your relatives, it is not easy to avoid them.

Add to this the fact that we're all invited to Hagrid's for tea on the first Saturday of each new term, and you'll find that it is absolutely impossible to steer clear of them.

The same way it is absolutely impossible to evade Malfoy, seeing as how he lives with me.

Hagrid has long since accepted the fact that it is impossible to fit at least nine Weasleys in his hut.

My parents and Uncle Harry, maybe, but not all of us.

So, the new tradition is a picnic by the lake, if it's not raining too badly, and the weather's fine today.

Al and I are the oldest now, so it's our responsibility to provide the food. Hagrid protests every year, but we've heard the stories of his rock cakes from our parents, and it was Teddy and Victoire who decided that nobody else should ever have to go through that particular trauma.

"Al" I say, as he tickles the pear in the painting that grants us access to the kitchens, "You do know that I love you, right?"

Al regards me with his head tilted to one side like an inquisitive puppy.

"Of course I know you love me Rose, and I love you right back"

I smile sadly, as the door appears in the wall and Al reaches out to grab the handle.

The house elves are only too happy to press three entire picnic baskets into our arms.

Something tells me that they'd pre-prepared the food for us; from the fact that there is a conspicuous lack of peanut butter, (Molly is allergic) to the personally monogrammed napkins rimmed in red and gold (Roxanne and I will fight over whose napkin is whose, as will Louis and Lucy.)

We all know that getting food out of the house elves isn't difficult, Uncle George was doing it thirty years before now, but Al and I never suspected that it'd all be pre-packaged.

The only job that we have to do is sit back and gratefully accept cups of tea and slices of lemon drizzle cake.

* * *

I can see the Weasleys and Hagrid sitting over on the other side of the lake.

Her hair is fluttering in the wind, and it's glittering in the autumn sunshine.

Even though she's one red head among a bunch of many, her hair still manages to look attractive and unique.

I'm still bothered by what she said to me last night.

And I'm not stalking her.

It's mere coincidence that we were at breakfast at the same time this morning.

And I'd already decided to go down to the lake this afternoon.

Her eyes flicker over to me, and I drop mine to the book that I've brought to keep me company.

But when I look up again she's still staring, and if I'm not mistaken, there's a little smile on her face; one that's not malicious or scary.

But then there's a shriek, and one of the other Weasleys is tickling mini-Potter mercilessly, so Rose is dragged into a family fight.

Sitting by the lake evokes contemplative thoughts in me, especially when I contrast myself, sitting on one side of the lake alone, to her, surrounded by family.

And that great body of water separates us.

Oh dear.

That sounds tragic.

Like that lovesick Muggle in her beloved play.

I don't care that we're different, in fact, the more different the better, because it keeps me from being attracted to her.

And being attracted to her would ruin my life.

I don't realise, but I've been sitting out here reading the same two pages for about four hours.

When I look over again it's just Rose left, lying back on the grass, and even from so far away, I can see her chest rising and falling with every breath she takes.

There's such a steady rhythm to the rising and falling, and it's so slow, that I'm sure she's asleep.

Looking all vulnerable underneath the open sky, I know that there's no way that she's ever going to hurt me.

She hasn't got it in her.

* * *

Everyone's left, and now that it's nearing five o' clock, I'm on my own, being at one with nature.

So at one, in fact, that I don't notice that that there's someone lying next to me until their breathing falls into a pattern with mine, and we're both so placid that our arms completely relax, and our fingers end up touching.

I sit up, and Malfoy's lying next to me, eyes closed, but with the ghost of a smirk still lining his face.

"Took you a while to realise I was here, Weasley" he murmurs, not opening his eyes, and barely altering his breathing pattern.

I surprise myself.

I take all the sarcastic comments that I can think of, and throw them onto a massive mental bonfire, before lying back down in the groove I'd created in the grass.

"Not going to run away screaming?" Malfoy drawls, but his heart's not in it.

"Why would I run away screaming from you, Malfoy?" I ask, and marvel at how incredibly weird the situation is.

"I don't know" he replies. "Because you seem to have been hiding from me for the past two days?"

And it's true.

I have.

But I don't know why, because he is just a seventeen year old boy, the same age as me.

"Yeah" I admit grudgingly. "But do you blame me, after what you've managed to say about me in the past week?"

There's a silence that is not awkward, as such, but is not entirely comfortable.

"Aren't you supposed to be punishing me for that anyway?" Malfoy asks finally.

"Maybe we can just hate each other on weekdays, Malfoy? Or days other than today. Today's been too perfect to ruin with petty fighting"

There's no reply, so I assume Malfoy agrees with our policy of 'Today is off limits' and I'll make it up by punishing him doubly tomorrow.

* * *

It's only ever Weasley who can make me do the unexpected.

Like kiss her, or lie next to her until darkness falls.

And worse than unexpected, whatever I do when she's around is unexplainable.

Doing things that are unexplainable is dangerous, because you can't excuse it, since you don't know for what reason you've done it.

That's another trait that Weasley instils in me: Complete Confusion.

I lie back next to her until the stars start to twinkle in the sky.

We don't say a word to each other for hours after our first brief conversation.

And we don't need to.

Eventually the coolness of the autumn day turns chilly and before long, she's shivering.

She leans forwards, as if she's getting up, but seems to think better of it.

Five minutes pass, in which her teeth begin to chatter.

"Aren't you going to go in?" I ask, and as I exhale, my breath condenses in the air around me.

"I'm not going in until you do"

At least, that's what I think she says, her voice is so disguised by her teeth chattering against each other.

"I thought that we were going to be vaguely civil today, Weasley?" I reply, noticing that whilst I'm wearing a jumper and jeans, she's wearing a short skirt and thin top, which is why she's so cold, and I'm not.

"This isn't a rival thing, Malfoy" she chatters, blowing on her fingers, which I swear are turning blue. "Well, it is, but our lives are still a competition, including this"

Rather than sit around arguing until her eyelashes have frosted over and she's diagnosed with hypothermia, I scoop the stubborn girl up in my arms, and stride back towards the castle, to complaints that are nowhere near as irate as they should be.

* * *

"That was a really stupid thing to do" Malfoy mutters, as he's laying me on the sofa. He flicks his wand at the fire while I struggle to sit up and speak.

"Lie back down, you dozy cow" he orders, and gives me a little shove.

My first instinct is to slap him back, but my brain is so slowed by cold that by the time that my hand is reacting, the moment has passed.

"What?" Malfoy arches an eyebrow. "It's not an unfounded accusation, is it? You lie outside all day, and half the evening in a skirt and tiny top and then you get mad at me when I rescue you?"

"I don't need rescuing, thank you very much Malfoy" I reply through gritted teeth.

Now that I'm less cold I can see him pacing up and down in front of the fireplace.

"Sit down Malfoy, you're making me nervous" I snap, irritated much more by the fact that Malfoy had to rescue me, rather than the fact that he's wearing a hole in the carpet.

"Stop being an ungrateful bitch and say thank you" Malfoy snarls, but he stops pacing, and looks at me with those piercing grey eyes of his.

I know when to admit defeat.

"Thank you for bringing me inside when I was acting like a spoilt brat, Malfoy" I intone grudgingly, and his eyes light up a little with surprise.

"It isn't a problem" he replies gruffly, looking everywhere in the room but at me.

"But don't go getting any ideas about me being indebted to you or anything" I warn, as I pull my knees up to my chest, and rub my legs.

He looks like he's going to ask again whether this little act of chivalry makes us even after the events of the past week, but he gets no further than opening his mouth.

Eventually, he looks me in the eye, and asks me straight,

"I suppose now wouldn't be the most opportune moment to ask if I could possibly borrow your Defence against the Dark Arts essay then?" and there's still a hint of hope in his voice.

Some days I just see past the audacity, and give in.

* * *

Weasley is observing me as I copy her essay into note form.

"You realise that if you'd just paid attention in the class in the first place then there would have been no need for you to come crawling to me to copy my essay?"

Weasley's tone is disapproving, yet she doesn't look it.

"Malfoy's don't crawl, Weasley" I reply evenly, even though she's being so ungracious. "I just need your help"

I go to add that she owes me, but I bite my tongue, knowing it's exactly what she wants.

The little smile tugging at the corner of her lips says that she'd love nothing more than for me to roll over and play dead.

But I'm not going to give her the satisfaction.

"So" she smiles wickedly. "If I were to do this?"

And in a flash she's rolled up the parchment, and is holding it in both hands behind her back.

I could sigh wearily.

I could snarl, seize my wand and summon the parchment back.

But I decide to play along, because she wants me to.

"I'd have to take it by force" I reply, seriously. "Otherwise Thomas is going to fail me, and I couldn't bear that now, could I?"

I'm sneaking closer and closer towards her, and she's still got that cheeky glint sparkling in her eyes that tells me that I can continue.

She starts to back towards a wall, and I can see the game that she's playing now.

I want to join in.

So the pair of us, never moving our eyes from one another, inch towards one of the walls of our sitting room, her hands still behind her back.

Once she's pressed right into the wall, I move my hands, so that they're snaking behind her waist, in an attempt to get at the essay that he's withholding from me.

"Nuh huh" Weasley scolds, her lips curling into the most kissable of smirks. "Not that fast, Malfoy"

She turns her head, and my face is so close to her that my lips brush her hair.

Her arms move from behind her back, dropping the parchment, but neither of us is pretending anymore.

I blink.

And I'm the one with my back to the wall, her wand at my throat.

Then, in a voice so cold and hard that the Dark Lord himself would be proud, she mutters,

"Imperio"


	7. Of Sundays and Slaps

**A/N: I have searched everywhere, and read every HP book over and over agian for a good description of the Imperius Curse, but haven't found a satisfactory one, so I may have taken some liberties with the effects of the curse, for which I am sorry. Anyway, please enjoy and review and what not, and I will try and find some way of updating whilst I'm camping.**

**Disclaimer: I never would have had the imagination to create talking portraits, the Deluminator or thought of the name Ginevra, hence i donot own Harry Potter.**

Sunday mornings.

Aren't they great?

It's the laziest day of the week, and it can't be made any more languid than when you have somebody at your beck and call.

Yes, so, Imperiusing Malfoy is morally wrong.

My mother never would have done it.

My family won't condone it.

Blah, blah, blah.

To tell you the truth, it was the hardest spell I've ever cast.

Just that one little word leads to so much control, which I'm still trying to get used to.

Nonetheless, it feels good.

Because, I'm not one to go back on my word.

"Malfoy, it was utterly wrong of you to tell the entire school that I'm sleeping with you, wasn't it?" I question, on that lazy Sunday morning.

Malfoy's immediate and sincere response is "Yes, it was out of order, and I never should have done it. Please accept my sincerest apologies"

I pat his blonde hair like he's a Labrador, rather than a Doberman, and he turns directly back to the task at hand; alphabetizing my homework essays from the last six years.

Boring work, I know.

And I never would have got round to it.

If it was left to me, they'd have stayed locked up in my desk drawer until the end of this year, when I'll bestow them on Louis and Freddie, who'll keep all the best ones and leave the rest for the 'littlies' to scrap over.

But now, thanks to my super-deluxe personal house elf/Head Boy, I can have those pesky notes all filed in logical order.

The thought of house elves conjures a picture of my mother in my mind. Pushing thoughts of S.P.E.W from my brain I consider writing a letter to her, to see whether dad's calmed down yet.

Actually, scrap that.

I'll dictate a letter for Malfoy to write to her, because I don't want my wrist getting sore, do I?

Contrary to popular belief, Malfoy is not good-for-nothing.

He is very good for menial tasks.

* * *

Being under this curse is possibly the weirdest thing I've ever experienced.

I can still think my own thoughts, but her thoughts always override my own when the two clash.

Which is quite frequently.

So, when she asks me if I'd mind terribly getting Echo from the Owlery, my overwhelming instinct is to tell her to get off her lazy backside and find her own owl.

But, what actually comes out of my mouth is more along the lines of "Of course. Would you like me to do anything else, whilst I'm out of the room?"

"Actually, before you get Echo for me, Malfoy, I'd like you to take a letter down for me" Weasley smiles pleasantly, and two thoughts conflict in my head,

"How can the crazy psychopathic bitch be doing this?" and "Parchment. Quill. Ink."

Thought number two wins, and I soon find myself writing down her every word.

Every little thing she wants, I must do.

I am completely subservient, she has complete domination.

"Do you know, Malfoy?" she says, as she's sealing the parchment up. "You're not really that bad, are you?"

I want to scream.

I want to yell.

Very loudly.

But she'd prefer me not to.

So I can't.

As I'm forced along to give this letter to Echo I reflect on the fact that if I'd been in Weasley's position I probably would have done the same thing.

Which is why I abhor her so thoroughly right now.

It's not the fact that she's controlling my every move and every word.

It's the fact that in order to curse me, she let me think that she wanted me.

She led me on.

I'm frankly very pissed off that I didn't think of it first.

I never realised that we're so similar.

* * *

I make Malfoy go down to lunch a little before me.

Otherwise, everybody would clearly realise that something was up, if he'd come trailing after me to Sunday lunch like a forlorn puppy.

Not that I have him trailing after me.

"And remember Malfoy" I say, before he leaves our sitting room. "When there are other people around, you act natural. You smirk, and you drawl, and you act like a general jerk, got it?"

His reply, like every one that he's given me whilst under this curse, is instantaneous, "I smirk, I drawl, I act like a general jerk."

It's so good to finally be listened to.

So, he traipses off, his strut looking entirely natural, which I'm grateful for, because the last thing that I want is for him to draw attention to himself by being moody and withdrawn.

I enjoy the peace of the Sunday afternoon whilst there is no-one else about.

There's only fifteen minutes of it, before I have to drag myself down to the Great Hall, and be seated for the meal that I detest above all others; Sunday Lunch.

Ever since I was born, Sunday Lunch has meant journeying to The Burrow to spend hours being ignored by adults whose attention you want, and being smothered in attention by adults you'd rather ignore.

"Rose's got the Sunday Blues" Lily sing-songs, as I almost throw myself down onto the bench next to her.

She's not quelled by a look that could have melted rock.

"Aaw, Rose" she says, "Don't be a spoilsport, give us a smile"

I flash a smile that she misses, since she blinks.

"Leave off" Hugo moans, "She's always been like this, why try and change her now?"

And he smiles one of those little brother smiles.

"What do you want?" I ask wearily, stabbing a roast potato more viciously than is really required.

The grin turns impish and Hugo replies, "How do you know I want something? Can't a little brother fight his big sister's corner once in a while?"

"No" I answer bluntly, "Now, spit it out"

"Well" Hugo starts slowly, "It's Malfoy"

* * *

I've barely put my fork down, when I get an overwhelming urge to jump up onto the dais in the Great Hall.

Fantastic.

Said overwhelming urge means that Weasley is still in control and wants me to do something else.

I try fighting it, but it doesn't work.

My legs are moving, even though I don't want them to be.

"Sonorus" I mutter, pointing my wand at my throat, as the professors eating look outraged.

"Erm. Excuse me" I say, and the words coming out of my mouth aren't mine, they're someone else's.

"I'd just like to say, in front of everyone, that Hugo Weasley isn't in detention for the next week for setting his own hair on fire as a joke in front of third year Slytherins, he's in detention for a week for being wittier, more clever and better looking than me. Which isn't actually a detention offence, so I'm revoking the punishment"

Lorento looks livid, but I have to carry on, as if someone is moving my jaw for me.

"Also, I've never slept with Rose Weasley, she's far too good for me, and I'm sorry for telling the whole school that she did"

The Gryffindor table explodes with laughter as Professor Longbottom grabs me by the neck of my robes and escorts me back to my table.

"Seeing as how I'm not your Head of House, Malfoy" he snarls, "I don't think it's appropriate that I punish you. Professor Lorento will be more than happy though" he finishes nastily.

I don't say anything because I'm not ordered to, which he takes as insolence.

I've had enough of being controlled, of doing whatever she tells me to.

Especially when Lorento storms over to the table, looking about as happy as a dragon that has had its eggs stolen.

"Malfoy" he growls, and for the second time in about a minute the scruff of my collar is grabbed by a teacher. "What on earth is the meaning of this?"

And once again, that overpowering feeling is overcoming me.

* * *

"That was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life" Hugo howls, as we sprint back up the staircase.

Let me explain: after Malfoy's rather incriminating public speech Lorento seized him and threw him practically bodily from the Great Hall, where Hugo and I crept to view my handiwork more closely.

"Malfoy, I want an explanation this very second" Lorento hisses, and I have 'carte blanche' to humiliate Malfoy in any way possible.

"Sir" Malfoy is on bended knee, and Hugo and I have to stuff our fists into our mouths in order to stop ourselves from bursting out laughing.

"It's just, she's driving me crazy. All I can do is think about her, and I can't sleep. I've never felt this way before" Malfoy is practically crying, and Hugo is practically wetting himself.

"And, of whom is it that you speak?" Lorento asks acidly, "That makes you act in a way that is completely unbefitting of a Head Boy and a pureblood Slytherin?"

"Rose Weasley" Malfoy whispers in the tiniest of voices, and even this is choked. There are now official tears streaming down his face, as he continues to proclaim his undying love for me.

"She makes the stars shine. She makes the earth spin. She is life in the very purest form"

Hugo is looking at me quizzically, and I'm replying, "I'm a romantic, can you blame me?" when the crack attributed with a slap is heard, and it seems that Lorento is so distraught at Malfoy's announcement of ardour for Rose Weasley, the unworthy half-blood Gryffindor, that he has slapped him.

This is the point at which Hugo and I depart, hurrying up the stairs as quickly as is possible, so that we can finally laugh the way we've wanted to for the past five minutes.

I truly do not understand why the 'Imperius' is an Unforgivable.

It brings so much joy to so many lives.

* * *

For the second time in a week, I have a red hand-shaped mark on my face.

I'm rather grateful for Lorento for slapping me, I could hear myself spouting that starry-eyed nonsense, and I want to hit myself.

After being given three months worth of detentions, I make my way back to our common room, hating Weasley more than I've ever hated anything or anybody in my seventeen years of existence. Her brother is with her when I step through the portrait hole and I hear myself saying "Good evening, Hugo, Rose, I hope that my public apology was satisfactory to you both"

I wonder if I can still kill myself whilst under this curse?

Better still, can I kill Weasley?

It's Hugo that replies first, his cheeks red from what I presume is laughter.

"Malfoy, I think that you have to admit once and for all that Rose the best, most intelligent witch that you've ever had the misfortune of maltreating."

"Hugo, please" Weasley returns, also a little pink from excess mirth. "Come on, show mom a bit of respect here, she is a much better witch than I am, I mean, she's written books and everything, all I've managed to do is make a complete and total fool of Malfoy"

And, because she is ordering me to, through her mind, since she has that much control over this curse now, I slope off to my bedroom, not to emerge until eight thirty tomorrow morning.

"Oh, and Malfoy" Weasley's voice floats into my bedroom, as the portrait hole closes and the irritating male Weasley (yes, there are many of them, but I mean Hugo) leaves. "Don't study too hard. I envisage a 'D' for you on your next homework essay in potions"

There is nothing that I'd like more than to be killed right now.


	8. Of Truths and Denials

**A/N: Short, I know. For which I apologise profusely. But I have to go and pick my sister up from school, and reivse for a biology exam tomorrow, and all other mundane type things. In like 10 minutes. But I needed to update, to placate my own soul. So, please, Read, Review and make me happy. **

**Disclaimer: What else wouldn't I have done? Well, Fred would be alive, and so would Lupin ,and so would Sirius. SO, I am not JK. I'm sorry.**

A second week of lessons commences with Charms, in which I force Malfoy to be as bothersome and obnoxious as he would usually be.

Excepting the fact that all of his taunts have beautifully large holes in them, which I gladly fill with comebacks, timed with perfect precision.

Al gawps at the fact that Malfoy appears to have let his guard down so fatally in such a hostile environment.

I haven't told him the reason why Malfoy is so easy to bite back at just now.

Albus would not approve of me using any form on Unforgivable Curse, even against Malfoy.

So, I've sworn Hugo to secrecy.

As little credit as I give my baby brother, he is not entirely dense, and very quickly realised that Malfoy did not jump onto the platform in the Great Hall, or declare his love for me of his own free will.

Thank Merlin that Hugo is more dad than mom, and wilfully consented to silence, just so he can see Malfoy's complete humiliation and degradation.

"Miss Weasley" Professor Rossetti, who is by far my favourite teacher of all time, says, since my eyes have kind of glazed over with thought, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, sure, sorry Professor" I bluster, and rub my eyes, as if I'm tired, even though I'm not. "Malfoy kept me up late last night, with tales of the Quidditch World Cup"

I smile as Rossetti rounds on Malfoy for his lack of consideration for his fellow student.

"Oh" I say sweetly, "It's not completely Malfoy's fault, Professor, I stayed up with him. I thought he could do with some company, especially after lunch yesterday"

Rossetti's smile for me is quite radiant, but her voice is almost a hiss when she turns back to Malfoy, "You are very lucky to have such a selfless Head Girl, Mr. Malfoy"

His face is a picture, and it is not my doing.

Well, I helped create the scene, but it's his emotion alone showing through in that class.

It is a face that says nothing more than, "Life is no longer worth living"

Poor Malfoy.

* * *

There is one thing that can be said of all this plot of Weasley's; she's gotten me out of spending any time with Mariah.

I don't know whether she's jealous, or whether she thinks that by keeping us apart she's upsetting me.

Whichever it is, I no longer have Mariah's high-pitched squeal as a constant companion.

Having said that, the disadvantages greatly outweigh the benefits; I'm in detention every Saturday for the next three months, my Head of House now thinks that I'm in love with Rose Weasley, I declared to the whole school that Hugo Weasley is wittier, more intelligent and better looking than myself, and she seems insistent on having me fail all of my NEWT classes.

"I never thought I'd say this, Malfoy" she mutters, as she's sitting writing yet another perfect essay, "But life without you and your criticisms and your rivalry is more than a little bit dull"

For a second I don't know what to reply, when I realise that she's ordering me to reply what I really feel.

The sensation is oxymoronic on all levels; she is ordering me not to follow an order, in essence.

It's worse than Veriteserum.

"But you always knew that, Weasley. You knew that before you put the curse on me, yet you did it still" I blurt, and she squirms uncomfortably on the sofa, like she has some form of conscience.

And then, in the smallest voice I've ever heard from a human being, she says, "I don't know how to reverse the curse."

I don't realise what she's saying at first.

Then, there's anger that the stupid cow put a curse on me that she can't lift, and smugness, because I know exactly how to reverse it.

However, right now isn't the time to be expressing either of these emotions, because she needs to life the curse on me.

She continues in that tiniest of voices, "Help me, please?"

So, I take hold of her hand, and tell her, "Just, let go. Take yourself out of my mind, and stop yourself from controlling me."

And as her fingers relax, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in two days.

After the initial relief, I want to breathe fire.

* * *

I don't have time to wonder if Malfoy's experiencing the same sense of relief that I am, before his slender fingers are around my throat, and cutting off the vital supply of oxygen to my heart and lungs.

"Do you have any idea how it feels?" Malfoy snarls, and I'm starting to see stars.

I can't reply, because I can't breathe.

"Not nice, is it?" he continues, and he doesn't seem to want to let go off my crucial airway.

I think he realises exactly what he's doing when my face turns a fetching shade of purple, because he lets go roughly and falls back onto the sofa, whilst I sit back, brushing the tears off my face and massaging my throat.

We're both quiet for a very long time.

He's enjoying his newly reinstated sense of freedom, and I'm savouring air, having realised quite recently just how precious it is.

After an hour, or maybe more, he asks in a low voice, "Why exactly did you cast that curse on me?"

I'm confused as to who is in the right and who is in the wrong right now; clearly casting the curse on him wasn't the best on idea on Earth, but I only did it because he pushed me over the edge.

"Exactly?" I reply, and my voice is still choked; I'm buying myself time more than anything else, because I don't know what possessed me to cast an illegal curse on him.

"Yes, exactly"

Malfoy appears to have regained some type of composure, whilst I have not.

I don't answer for a while.

He doesn't look at me, and I don't look at him.

And just when I think that he's forgotten about the whole thing, he adds, "I'm still waiting for an answer"

I think I've already filled my quota of cowardice for this week.

So, I open my mouth and just let the words tumble out.

"Because, if I hadn't have put that curse on you, I never would have realised exactly how much I need your bantering in my life to make it worthwhile."

Malfoy's arched eyebrow tells me that he knows there's more to it than I've let on.

"Okay, and also, if I hadn't have cursed you, I would have kissed you."

* * *

"I knew it"

The triumph in my voice is unmistakable.

No girl has ever not worshipped the ground I walk on.

And Weasley is a girl like any other.

A little less predictable maybe, but a girl all the same.

"Don't go getting too cocky, will you, Malfoy?" she says sourly, since I do look a bit like a child at Christmas.

"And don't you go forgetting that you performed an illegal curse on me, will you Weasley?" I counter, and she is swiftly silenced.

Now that Weasley has made this little announcement, the air between is clear again, or at least, as clear as the air can ever be between Weasley and I.

"I wish I'd just kissed you and got it over with" she moans softly, "Because now you're going to hold this against me for the rest of my life."

Dear Merlin.

Weasley actually wishes that she'd kissed me.

It's one of those hell-freezing-over, Quibbler-making-sense, Muggles-doing-magic moments.

"Maybe not for the rest of your life" I drawl, and I'm glad to find that I can still drawl, since I've been using that whiny voice far too frequently over the past two days. "I have no intention of acknowledging you existence after the end of this year, so I don't suppose it'll matter after then"

I don't really have the desired effect; I'd hoped for a crushed and dejected Weasley, but she's still staring at me like she's trying to figure out something in my brain.

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?" she surprises me by asking the question; I hadn't realised I was being stubborn about anything.

"Stubborn about what exactly?" I ask, and realise that she's now sitting next to me, rather than opposite me.

"Come on, Malfoy, don't try and deny it" she mutters, and she's now a bit too close for comfort.

I'm confused from now until next week, she's doing a Mariah-type thing, talking about things that I don't understand.

If there's one person that I was ever reassured that Weasley would never be like, it's Mariah.

Frankly, I'm disappointed.

I have no time to tell her how much she's let me down, when her bottom lip is touching mine, and her own eyes are a little wide with surprise.

Mine are a mirror of hers, but I cup her face in my hands anyway, and let her continue.

At least she's not talking nonsense.


	9. Of Fathers and Girlfriends

**A/N: Camping tomorrow! So, no reviews til Friday I'm afraid. Read and Review, and if you're all nice I'll do like a gazillion chapters (that's creative exaggeration, i can't write that much) on Saturday. **

**Disclaimer: I'm lost for what else to write. I think I've made it pretty clear that I'm not JK.**

"Rosie

"Rosie?"

Oh. Merlin.

That's my dad's voice.

"Weasley?"

That's Malfoy's voice.

"Malfoy!"

That's my dad's voice again.

Shit.

"Daddy?"

That's my voice, for the first time.

"I'd better leave" a topless Malfoy mutters, scurrying through my newly repaired door.

I pull my tousled hair into a hasty ponytail, avoiding my dad's gaze for as long as I can.

And in three.

Two.

One.

"HOW DARE YOU?"

My dad's rage has always been like clockwork.

"YOU TOLD YOUR BROTHER TO LIE TO ME"

That's news to me, I never asked Hugo to say anything to anyone. In fact, I expressly told him to keep his big mouth shut.

Not that it matters now.

"AND I COME TO APOLOGISE TO YOU AND YOU'RE…YOU'RE…YOU'RE…"

My dad's head in the fire is not looking too happy, and it's not good that he's beginning to stumble over words.

"Daddy, please can I just explain?" I put in, before he completely boils over and comes right through the fireplace to drag me home, like he apparently threatened in front of the entire school.

"How on Earth are you going to explain a shirtless Scorpius Malfoy on your bed at eight on a Tuesday morning?"

My dad is no longer yelling, which means that a Grandma Molly-like fury will be swift to follow. "Go on" he continues dryly, "I'm just dying to hear"

I gulp, and realise I have two options.

Option One: Lie my ass off.

Option Two: Lie my ass off.

It's a unanimous vote for lie my ass off.

"It's a school project, dad" I say, mustering up all the hurt I can in my voice, "I can't believe you think that I'd ever touch Malfoy"

So, my lying?

Yeah, it's not amazing.

"Rose Weasley" The disappointed voice has kicked in, "It's not even the fact that it's Malfoy, I'm too old to be holding grudges that started when I was eleven"

That bad lying?

I get it from my dad.

"It's the fact that you lied to me"

I'm struggling here, I never told my parents anything about Malfoy, lies or otherwise, so I feel a bit of a chat with Hugo coming on.

I hear my mother's voice call out from my house.

"I'm disappointed in you, Rose"

That's the last thing he says to me, before his head disappears with a quiet 'pop' from the fire.

* * *

"Nice guy, your dad" I say lightly, as Weasley strides out of her bedroom, looking as though all the fury of the world is contained in her body.

"As opposed to your father, the Death Eater?" she snaps back, and I realise that now is not the time.

"I'm going to murder Hugo Weasley when I get my hands on him" she mutters darkly under her breath, flinging her textbooks into her schoolbag with unnecessary venom.

"Why murder?" I ask, "I hear the Imperius Curse is just as effective. It can drive you to suicide"

"Would you like to sample my Cruciatus right now?" she snarls, and I get that I've pushed her too far, well, at least for eight in the morning.

She storms through the portrait hole, early as it is, without another word to me, not even a tiny goodbye, leaving me with only the memory of last night.

Rose Weasley is a piece of work.

Behind her exterior hardness, there's some more hardness, and if you can be bothered to work through that, she's as easy to please as any seventeen year old girl.

That nibbling of the quill from her homework?

Well, that's great practice for the real thing.

And her hair smells like nutmeg.

And those flecks of gold in her eyes aren't gold, they're amber.

It sounds like all of her little quirks have made me fall for her, and I'm now going to declare my love fore her for real.

Not a chance.

So, maybe I've not conquered her like all the others, but it's only a matter of time.

I managed to get into her bedroom and onto her bed before any reservation on her part started to show through.

But, I'm a Malfoy.

Failure is not a word that features in my vocabulary.

And this isn't just some twisted plan for revenge; the idea of bedding her is really quite attractive.

All there is now is that famous Gryffindor loyalty to break through.

And that's where being a Slytherin comes into play; Slytherins are all about ingenuity.

* * *

"Mad-Eye Moody" I say to the Fat Lady, cutting off her 'Congratulations' on my Head Girl-ship. With a pained expression she swings forward to grant me access to the familiar common room, which looks crowded in comparison to the privacy of the Heads' common room.

I make a beeline for the male fifth year dormitory, and storm up the staircase, with no qualms about waking up my brother's friends.

Hugo looks angelic in sleep, his red hair splayed all over the pillow, and that uncle George-like grin plastered on his face.

Sorry, little bro, but you're going to pay.

I grab him by the ear, making sure to dig my nails right in.

It has the desired effect.

Hugo's eyes flicker open and he lets out a blood-curdling yell.

"Morning, brother dearest" I hiss, clamping my hand over his mouth.

He bites down, hard, and even though I'm in just as much pain as he is, I swallow it down and drag him from his bed.

There are whispers from the other beds in his dorm, which I respond to collectively, "The next boy to speak will be in detention from now until the end of the year. And I won't be doing a Malfoy and publicly revoking it"

Hugo is a whimpering mess on the floor, acting like I've cursed his ear off, rather than just pinched it.

"Oh, Hugo dear" I snarl, "This is just the beginning. We're going to go and have a nice walk"

So clad in paisley pyjamas Hugo is forced down the staircase and out of the common room, despite him plaintive pleas and cries.

Once out in the corridor I link his arm through mine and clamp it with an ion grip.

"Now then, Hugo" I start, whilst Hugo tries not to look like there have been tears streaming down his face, and fails miserably. "I gather that you and the parents have been corresponding lately?"

He attempts to shrug indifferently. This turns into a brisk nod as I twist his arm behind his back.

"Now then" I continue, "You're going to answer all of my questions truthfully, and I might not hurt you so much."

* * *

I saunter down to breakfast at half eight, having had a shower and retrieved some of my clothes from Weasley's bedroom.

She's just taking her seat with her brother when I enter the Great Hall, which is odd, seeing as how she left almost half an hour ago.

I understand immediately though when I see the kid's face; twisted in pain and pale, which means that Weasley's wand has probably been causing havoc again.

Mariah approaches me wearily at the table, which is fair enough as I've spent the last two days completely ignoring her, through no fault of my own, though like I said, I didn't particularly mind.

"Morning, Scorpius?"

It's less of a greeting, more of a question to see whether she gets any reply.

"Hey Mariah" I return cheerily, pouring her some tea (If there's one thing that Mariah hates as much as she hates Weasley, it's coffee) and intertwining her fingers with mine.

She's smooth enough not to show she's surprised by the public display of affection and gratefully receives her tea. Grabbing a piece of toast that she inevitably won't eat she looks me up and down, "What's been up with you these past few days?" she asks, sipping at the tea genteelly.

"Just Head stuff" I lie smoothly, "There was me thinking that it'd be all fun and games, when it turns out I actually have a job to do"

I turn, to see how easily Mariah has lapped up my lie, but she's staring intently at the left side of my neck.

"What's that?" she demands, albeit quietly.

I run my fingers across the skin of my neck, to see if it feels any different.

"There's nothing there Mariah, you're imagining things"

Mariah isn't listening to me, she's rummaging around in her school bag. After a minute or so she smiles triumphantly and holds up a powder compact. Opening it, she shoves the mirrored half in my face, so that I can see what it is that is apparently wrong with my neck.

I'll tell you what's wrong with my neck; there is a purple mouth shaped bruise on it, and Mariah does not look happy.

* * *

I'm halfway between Charms and Transfiguration when I hear a voice calling my name. Turning, I wonder why such a feminine voice is calling me by my surname, and I'm face to face with Mariah Salinas, official lapdog to Scorpius Malfoy.

"Did you want something, Salinas?" I ask, perfectly civil, even though the snotty cow is still sneering at me, like she can't believe she's speaking to me.

"Yes, actually Weasley" she replies, glancing at the doorway of an empty classroom. I take her hint and she follows me, even though it means I'm going to be late.

"What is it? I have a class to get to" I demand, at which Mariah glares, and exhales loudly.

"Weasley, I need you to do me a favour" she says quickly, so that I almost don't understand what it is that she's saying.

I don't respond, since I'm waiting for her to elaborate, mainly, why I owe her a favour, and what said favour entails.

"I need you to keep an eye on Scorpius for me" she adds, repositioning a strand of her honey blonde hair so that it's no longer falling in her face.

"You want me to spy on Malfoy for you?" I reiterate slowly, since it's such a bizarre request. "And is there any particular reason for it?"

"What does it matter to you?" she snaps, before realising that she is still asking for my help, and therefore needs to treat me with some sort of respect. "I mean, I just want to know if, you know, in the evenings and stuff he gets any visitors or anything"

She looks at me hopefully, like I'll be able to produce a list of groupies that hang out with Malfoy in out common room every night.

Needless to say, I don't.

"Visitors?" I ask sceptically, and Mariah nods, adding,

"Especially girls."

I roll my eyes, but nod my consent seeing as how I really need to get to Transfiguration since I'm already late.

There is no reply of thanks from Mariah, she simply whirls out of the room, taking with her the smell of expensive perfume.

* * *

I'm practically falling asleep in my seat when Weasley sneaks into the classroom, ten minutes late.

Well, I say sneaks, it's more like an attempted sneak, because McGonagall turns on her the second she puts a toe through the door.

"Ah, Miss Weasley, how nice of you to join us" she says sarcastically, shepherding Weasley to her position next to her cousin. "Perhaps you could explain the exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration for us?"

Weasley, as usual, takes it all in her stride, "There are five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration; love, life, information, money and food" she parrots, with her swallowed-a-textbook syndrome "They are all considered elementary necessities of life, and therefore priority should be placed on the correct composition of them, rather than artificially Conjuring them. Of course, three of the exceptions aren't tangible at all, hence cannot be Conjured. Although 'love' can be recreated by Amortentia, it is actually just a powerful illusion, whilst 'life' can be given by substances such as the Elixir of Life, it is not created, merely prolonged eternally"

McGonagall's glare is melted by Weasley's recital and she even gives her a rare smile. "Spoken like your mother's daughter, Miss Weasley. Take five points for Gryffindor"

There is very little smugness in Weasley's face today, which I immediately pick up on, since I'm usually subjected to it around the clock.

She looks subdued, which is no doubt because of her father turning up at eight this morning and yelling at her so loudly that I could her, even when I wasn't in the room.

I would have though that threatening her brother would have cheered her up though.

Obviously not.

I'm wondering what shampoo she uses to make her hair smell so much of nutmeg, when the bell for the end of class rings and she's not whirling around with her usual efficiency, in fact, her cousin is having to hurry her up.

It doesn't worry me, as such, I'm just intrigued as to why she isn't her usual self, and wonder if it's because of last night.

I hope I haven't broken her.

* * *

"Have you spoken to your brother recently?" I ask, pushing the food on my plate around with my fork, rather than eating it. Al messes up his hair, looking supremely like Uncle Harry, and crinkles his nose.

"How recently is recent?" he replies, snaffling a chip off my plate, since I'm not eating them myself.

"You know, recent, like, since we've been back at school?" I try my best to look innocent, but my acting has never been amazing.

"What is it Rose?" Al enquires, with that 'Please confide in me, I'm a trustworthy kind of guy' look in his eye.

Damn that look.

I spill.

Everything.

"Whoa" Al breathes, his green eyes a little bit misted over "That's, wow, I mean, really?"

None of those words actually mean anything. Al's incoherence is cute, but he hasn't answered my question.

"Slimy creep" Al shudders, "I told him he could see you and he was just lurid. There was no need for me to punch him!"

This is the first I've heard of Al ever laying a finger on anyone.

I'm angry.

"Albus Potter, what were you thinking? Punching Malfoy?" I splutter, knocking over Lucy's goblet and spilling Pumpkin Juice on the table. Louis, sitting opposite her, pulls his wand from his robes lazily and mutters "Evanesco" at the mess of juice on the table.

Al smiles pointedly, and asks, "So, when's the wedding?"

I narrow my eyes and glare, before slamming my unused fork onto the table and getting up.

"What's up with Rose?" I hear Louis ask, as I stalk away from the table.

"She's in lurrrve" Lucy replies, clearly having listened to the entire conversation between Albus and I.

I hate having a large family.

They all assume that your business is their business.

I'm so enraged by my immature cousin that when I steam through the door of the Great Hall I walk smack bang into the hard torso of a seventh year Ravenclaw.

"Uh, sorry" I apologize curtly, before starting to walk away.

"Wait!" calls out the Ravenclaw, and I turn at the foot of the staircase, "You're Head Girl, right?"

I sigh deeply, and point at the badge on my chest, "It's what the badge says, isn't it?"

I'm surprised by the smile on his face.

"Danny Lassiter, Ravenclaw Keeper" he says, holding his hand out. I step back from the stairs and grasp his warm hand.

"Sorry, I'm just a bit stressed out right now, it's no excuse for me to be rude though" I burble, feeling my cheeks colour.

"No worry" Lassiter replies, "Not for a girl with eyes as beautiful as yours anyway."

I blink, and he laughs.

* * *

When I step through the portrait hole the fire is crackling in the grate, and Weasley is curled up on the sofa, no homework anywhere in sight.

"Evening, Malfoy" she greets pleasantly, no hint of malice.

I know better than to look surprised.

"Erm, Rose, do you have a towel?" A male voice calls from the bathroom.

I raise an eyebrow, but internally, I gag.

Weasley looks uncomfortably from the bathroom doorway to me, and Daniel Lassiter appears.

"Malfoy" he greets with an incline of his head, and he's holding Weasley's towel in his hands. "I, umm, used your towel Rose; you've only got personalized ones"

"Malfoy, Danny. Danny, Malfoy" she introduces, even though Lassiter and I know one another.

"Do they not have a bathroom in the Ravenclaw tower?" I ask acidly, all three of not moving. Lassiter laughs uncertainly, while Weasley looks pained.

"Awkward much, Malfoy?" she asks, staring daggers at me, with a look that clearly says, 'Leave. NOW.'

"I was going to leave anyway" Lassiter offers, and Weasley smiles soppily up at him, like it's the most chivalrous thing she's ever heard.

After he's gone, (he doesn't get a goodbye kiss, I notice) she flops right back down on the sofa. I sit on the opposite sofa, and think.

Lassiter?

Really?

She has some type of taste then.

He's a Pureblood, for starters.

Not as rich as Mariah, but by no means poor.

But still, really?

I mean, okay, they're both the intelligent Quidditchy type, and he might be described as good looking.

Nothing like me, he's the tall, dark variety, as opposed to blonde and slight.

Friendly with Potter. Well, he's never been knocked out by him, to the best of my knowledge.

"I'm going to bed Malfoy" Weasley's irritated voice cuts through my thoughts and I watch her gather her robes up off the sofa.

Who am I kidding?

Lassiter and Weasley make a perfect couple.


	10. Of Gossips and Relationships

**A/N: I am a naughty, naughty girl. I promised an update yesterday, which I didn't fulfil, since I was so sleeply, and I now feel awful. Also, I'm sorry, but I swear I'm having like hormonal fits at the moment, because Rose and Scorpius are ALL over the place right now. I'm not entirely satisfied, let me know how you all feel about it, please? It'll make me feel better, and I actually promise that I'll update like everyday this week, since I've got the entire week off school.**

**Disclaimer: Potter mine Harry not is. Rearrange the sentence to work out what we all already knew. **

I wake up a little early so I can try a new experience.

Make up.

A whirlwind of foundation and powder and blusher and mascara and lipgloss and eyeliner.

Merlin only knows how Lily does it everyday.

It is Lily's look that I'm aspiring for; natural and refined, yet just loud enough to be noticeable.

A tall order for a girl who is much more experienced with a wand of ash than with a mascara wand, I know.

It would have made sense to consult her first, but I want to make an effort today, not next term, which is how long it would have taken Lily to explain that this, that and the other colours clash with my hair, and I can't wear a particular shade of lipgloss because it doesn't go with my badge.

As magnificent with make up as Lily may be, she is also very meticulous.

When I emerge from my room at twenty past eight Malfoy looks less than impressed.

"Weasley, you appear to have got some kind of stuff on your face" he grimaces, moving his hand in a circular motion in front of his face to denote that the problem is pretty much everywhere.

"It's called make up, Malfoy" I return tartly, but anxious inside that I look like Roxanne did that time she broke into Aunt Angelina's make up case when she was three and 'experimented.'

Malfoy's eyebrows are so far up his forehead they've practically disappeared into his hairline. His trademark smirk once again fixes itself onto his mouth and he drawls, "So, are we making a special effort for anybody in particular?"

Since he clearly knows the answer to the question I don't bother replying to him, just walk across the room to be as far away from him as is physically possible.

"Aren't you going to go and find lover boy?" Malfoy asks from the sofa.

"Malfoy, I'd totally appreciate it if you grew up" I snap back, heading out of the portrait hole so that I can prevent myself from hurting him, or making a fool of myself, whichever would have come first.

"You're looking lovely today, my dear" Florence, the old portrait witch, chimes, as I turn to make for the staircase.

"Thanks Florence" I reply cheerily, "You and tabby are looking pretty good yourselves"

And with a wave from her I set off with a happy smile on my face.

* * *

I'm particularly careful to let Mariah fawn all over me, without flinching, at breakfast, since she left looking not all that happy yesterday.

"You know, Scorp" she says, taking a delicate sip of water, "We don't spend enough time with one another"

That's because not seeing each other all that often is the way we both like it.

"I think we should take time out to do couple-y things" she continues, surveying me with green eyes that portray her personality exactly; cold as ice.

It takes all my willpower not to raise my eyebrow in sarcastic mode.

"So, what do you say?" she finishes, looking me over.

Lucky for me, my acting is impeccable.

"Couple-y things?" I ask, with a slight smile. "What type of couple-y things?"

"I don't mean anything mushy, I'm not asking you to recite poetry to me, I just want us to talk more, maybe stop playing away?" she stares pointedly at the bruise on my neck, which I refused to let her cover in make up.

"I apologised, Mariah, what more do you want me to do?" I ask, my voice still even, though it's a struggle.

"Scorp, I really don't mind you seeing other girls in the holidays, I see other guys. But when we're back at school, people expect stuff from us. They expect perfection" she sighs, and I swear that she's been taking lessons from my mother.

"I won't let it happen again. You know, no matter how much it seems, you've always been the one I want to be with"

If she's been taking lessons from my mother, I'm learning from my father.

She looks satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, and I've managed to elude telling her who exactly I've been with, yet again, so breakfast has been productive, I suppose.

"So, we can do something after dinner then?" Mariah asks, shouldering her bag and leaning down towards my mouth.

"Have a nice day" I reply, kissing her mouth lightly, and smiling up at her.

* * *

"Daniel Lassiter?"

Lily sighs dreamily, before her 'business' look is affixed to her face.

"So, tell me everything, Rose Weasley. Spare no detail, not one"

Typical Lily Potter, as soon as a guy's name enters into the conversation her pancakes are left to go stone cold and her fork is abandoned.

"There's not much to spill Lils" I reply calmly, although secretly I'm really quite ecstatic that for once it's Lily grilling me about a cute guy, rather than the other way around. "I bumped into him, quite literally, leaving the Great Hall yesterday, and then I invited him for a chat in my sitting room"

Lily's face falls very slightly, before almost immediately brightening, "Okay, so maybe it hasn't been the world's greatest love story yet, but I know you Rose, you're my cousin. This is going to turn into the romance of the year, I can see it now"

She stops her one hundred mile-a-minute spiel to roll her eyes in a scarily accurate impression of Malfoy, before bringing the man himself up in conversation, "At least you and Daniel can give Malfoy and über-snob a run for their money. They're looking quite close today" she adds, her eyes flickering over towards the Slytherin table just in time to see Mariah bend over and kiss Malfoy.

Lily continues, but all I'm thinking about is the pang in my heart, wondering whether Malfoy and I looked that compatible when I was kissing him.

I have no doubt that he and Mariah are more aesthetically pleasing; she's so much smaller than him, blonde like him, striking like him.

"-having problems" I barely catch the end of Lily's speech, that's how sorry for myself I'm feeling.

She prods me before asking, "So, what do you think, have you heard anything?"

"Lily" I snap back irritably, annoyed with myself for getting so tangled up in ridiculous feelings (dare I say it?) for Malfoy, "I'm supposed to be Head Girl. If you and your fifth-year girlfriends want to trade rumours in your spare time, go ahead, but I'm not getting dragged into it"

Lily pouts, but shuts up, leaving me free to finally start on my fruit salad.

* * *

"Mr Malfoy" Rossetti's voice snaps me back to the here and now, "Did your mother never teach you that it's rude to stare?"

What Rossetti doesn't know is that what my mother never taught me is enough to fill a few books. Rather than trying to be smart I just school my facial features into a sincere expression and reply in a low voice "I'm terribly sorry, Professor, how rude of me"

She doesn't, however, melt as easily as every other female in the world. Her frown is a little less deep, but her voice is still peevish, "It's not me you owe the apology to, Mr Malfoy. It was Miss Weasley you were staring at"

And she's correct.

It's inadvertent staring, of course.

I still look right into Weasley's eyes and mummer "Sorry, Rose" though.

At which, her red lips part slightly and she replies, "Not at all, Scorpius"

Potter's face, next to her, moves from puzzled through to knowing right to satisfied.

Satisfied is how Rossetti now looks, and she continues to drone on, and once again my attention I not at all focused on her.

In fact, my interest is still fixed on Weasley's lips, set in milky complexion, underneath her warm eyes. Her head is tilted to one side as she scratches down notes on her parchment, her fingers running swiftly over the browned parchment. Her lips once again part, and her pink tongue darts over them, in concentration, emphasized by the frown on her face.

My fingers itch to reach out and smooth that frown away, since it's marring her angelic-like features.

It's like I'm seeing her for the very first time; seeing her properly for the Rose she is, rather than the Weasley I always assumed her to be.

"Mr Malfoy!"

Rossetti's voice is sharper this time, she's clearly irritated that I'm not in awe of her magnificent knowledge of all things Charms related. "If I have to ask you to concentrate one more time, I may well ask you to leave the room altogether"

That actually might not be such a bad idea.

It'd give me some time to get my head straight, at the very least.

* * *

Al bounces along next to me as we journey along down flights of stairs, heading for Potions.

"Will you please tell me why you look like the next fifteen Christmases have come at once?" I demand, since Al is practically chasing his own tail like an over-excited puppy."

"You know exactly why" Al teases, his grin never faltering, although he falls into step next to me, clearly realising that his behaviour is not exactly appropriate for a seventh year.

"If I say 'Albus I really don't have a clue what you're on about' will you believe me?" I ask, racking my brains to see if I've overlooked some major incident that he could be referring to.

Even in shaking his head Al manages to look enthusiastic, and I just have to laugh.

"Right, so I'm going to have to guess?" I ask, with an exasperated sigh, though I'm actually enjoying this little conversation.

"Go on" he replies eagerly "It shouldn't take long"

I continue to run through a list of recent events in my head, determined to work out that grin, even if it kills me.

"Okay" I say, as we're nearing the dingy dungeons that we're habitually forced into, as some form of punishment, I'm sure.

What am I saying?

Potions isn't just punishment, it's torture with Lorento as Professor.

"Does it have something to do with Lily?"

Al once again shakes his head and hints heavily, "She's much closer to home"

Well, that settles it, it's clearly something I've done and forgotten about, because no one gets closer to home than Lily, except myself.

Al repeats my exasperated sigh as he pushes open the door into the dungeon where we're condemned to spend the next two hours.

"It's about you and Malfoy!" he finally bursts out, and my stomach drops about five miles.

Suddenly, I'm not enjoying having this conversation so much.

* * *

Next to me Mariah is calmly stirring her Draught of Living Death, whilst opposite me Weasley is having a heated discussion with Potter, with the result that her potion is slowly congealing in her cauldron.

Half of me is gleeful that she's messing up, as payback for all the times I made mistakes whilst I was under her stupid curse.

The other, weaker, half is concerned for her, because Rose Weasley isn't a witch that'll lose concentration for any old reason.

Now that I've got both her and Mariah in such close proximity I can finally make the comparison I've been longing to make for days.

Mariah's poker straight blonde tresses have none of the appeal of Weasley's gleaming, curly, fiery hair.

Mariah's tanned, Weasley's pale.

They're both slim, though Mariah's a good few inches shorter than Weasley.

Then, there are their eyes.

Mariah's are green. Slytherin through and through, her calculating, ruthless nature shining from within.

Weasley's are hazel, but so many different shades of brown at the same time.

So deep.

So alluring.

My final conclusion is that Mariah is model-esque, but Weasley is a real-live gorgeous witch.

I realise that I'm not seeing her for the first time, she's always looked like this, I've just stopped looking for a model, and started looking for somebody with imperfections, like the smattering of freckles across her nose.

Even though her eyes have changed with the addition of eyeliner and her cheekbones are sharpened by blusher, she hasn't attempted to hide those freckles, they're there, vivid as ever.

Which is why she's so beautiful, because she doesn't try to hide herself away, even after all my taunts.

And, if having these unwanted thoughts about Weasley isn't bad enough, I realise the worst at the end of the class, when she walks out of the door, surrounded by two men; her cousin and Lassiter.

I've left it too late to recognize what I'm feeling.

* * *

This is comfortable.

In the least comfortable way possible.

Malfoy and Mariah are on the sofa nearest the fire, her lying al over him, chatting about the most superficial, shallow subjects that you could ever wish to choose.

The coffee table separates their sofa from the one that Danny and I are sitting on; me looking on with disapproving looks, whilst Danny attempts to engage conversation.

"I'd give up" I whisper, as Mariah twists herself into a position that is an advertisement for the flexibility of gymnasts, and starts to nibble on Malfoy's neck, right over the mark I left. "I think they're otherwise engaged."

Danny smiles at me, and shifts a little closer to me on the sofa.

I freeze.

I'm not entirely sure what decorum dictates I do in this situation.

Malfoy initiated our first kiss in a sort of a fit of rage, after which I slapped him, and I initiated our second kiss, because I felt an abnormal urge to press my lips into his, and we all know what that led to, namely, my dad's irate head in my fire, and pain for Hugo.

But with Danny, I don't feel any of that electricity, chemistry, call it what you will.

All I know is that it's not there.

There's no doubt that he's a really genuine guy, and polite, and everything that Malfoy's isn't, but it doesn't change the fact that when his soft lips connect with mine there are no butterflies in the pit of my stomach, and no fireworks going off inside my head.

But I let him break away from me, so that he doesn't realise that I'm less than enchanted.

"Wow" he breathes softly, "I'm sorry, Rose, I know that we're not officially seeing each other or anything, and we haven't known each other that long, but I just had to-"

He trails off, and stares at me with chocolate brown eyes.

He looks so happy that I feel bad that I don't reciprocate his feelings.

But, I lean back in his arms and let him stay until Mariah leaves, because if I tell him that I'm not that into him, it'll be admitting to myself that he's only here because I'm jealous of Malfoy and Mariah.

* * *

"Have fun?" I ask, as Weasley waves Lassiter out of the portrait hole.

"I could ask you the same thing" she replies, leaning against one of the beige walls, with a puzzled look on her face.

"Relationship problems already" I tut, smirking as she scowls.

"Not everybody's relationship is as insecure as yours Malfoy, some are based on truth, and real feelings, rather than money"

I don't know what she wants me to reply; I'm hardly about to deny any of it, because it's no big secret that Mariah and I are mainly together because of blood and money.

"So, this truth element?" I finally ask, since she thinks that she's got me cornered, "Does that mean that you'll be telling Lassiter about us?"

The puzzled look returns, and Weasley spits, "Us? What us? There is no us"

Whoa.

Talk about defensive.

I finger the dark bruise on my neck and return, "Well, I'm sure Lassiter and I can just compare teeth marks once you start leaving him with bruises too. Not that it'll be happening any time soon"

Weasley looks torn between furious and disgruntled, "What makes you think that?" she asks coolly, "Just because Danny and I aren't big on public displays of affection doesn't mean that it's not going to happen"

So, does this mean that they're official now, seeing as how about three minutes have passed since I asked if they were having relationship problems, and she's yet to deny that they're in any sort of relationship.

"I'm just saying that there weren't exactly any sparks flying this evening" I announce, at which her eyes don't flash with indignation.

But then, I hadn't expected them to.

She storms across to her door without another word, so I call out to her "Goodnight then"

Surprise, surprise there's no reply.


	11. Of Tryouts and Talks

**A/N: Ha! I just got out of picking my litle sister up from school which meant that I could finish this and post it, as opposed to waiting for the rest of the week. Hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I'd love to say that own HP and his fabulous world. I really really do. But if I did I'd get sued and my legal aid isn't all that great, so I won't.**

Dreams are not good things.

Especially dreams in which Malfoy and I have physical contact.

And not the fist in his stomach, knee in his groin type physical contact either.

I mean the mouth, hands, and tongue type of physical contact.

It's no wonder that I wake up covered in sweat.

They're not dreams, they're nightmares.

Because I have a boyfriend, who I've barely been seeing for twelve hours, and already I'm having cringy thoughts about another guy.

Malfoy, of all people.

That fact that I now officially have Malfoy on the brain scares me more than anything in the world.

More than all my family dying, or Voldemort returning or being expelled from school.

Which makes me doubly grateful that he's still in bed when I sneak out of the portrait hole and quietly make my way down to breakfast at twenty past eight.

It means that absolutely no interaction with him is necessary, which in turn means that I can't say, or do, anything idiotic.

There is a multitude of my family already at breakfast when I arrive; Al, Freddie, Louis, Lucy and Roxanne, so I can sit down and not have to discuss any emotional type of feeling, since Lily isn't there, and everyone else seems to have Quidditch on the brain.

"Tryouts are this Saturday afternoon Rosie" Freddie greets, his badge also gleaming on his chest, same red and gold colours, but a little smaller than mine. I nod, to show him that I've heard and the arrangements suit me, and then pick up a slice of toast from the toast rack, butter it and allow myself to wallow in self pity.

I am a poor, pathetic, wretched excuse for a Gryffindor, for a Weasley, even for a girl.

Letting myself be attracted to a stupid, egotistical, self-centered slimeball like Malfoy.

A stupid, egotistical, self-centered slimeball who has the most delicious mouth, and cold grey eyes that shine with intelligence and abs that even the illustrious James Potter would die for.

There I go again.

I need to stop doing that.

At least in public.

Because it makes my eyes go out of focus and my mouth kind of opens a little bit.

Which is really quite noticeable.

"Rose, are you okay?" Lucy asks, ever the polite young lady, which is entirely Aunt Audrey's fault.

"Hmm?" I mumble, "Yeah, Luce, yeah I'm fine"

Lucy scowls, she is to Luce as I am to Rosie; we both feel that it's childish and irritating to have stupid nicknames when both of our names are short enough as it is.

"Aah, sorry Lucy. It's difficult when someone you've known as Luce for your entire life decides that she wants to be called Lucy" I reply apologetically, and her eyes narrow.

"Yes, well, it's difficult to call somebody you've known as Rosie all your life Rose, but I still pay you the courtesy of doing it"

I give up, because Malfoy has just strolled through the door of the Great Hall.

I do wish my heart would stop doing that stupid fluttery thing.

* * *

Weasley looks up when I walk through the door of the Great Hall.

As soon as my eyes meet hers, she looks down at her toast, before throwing it down onto her plate, propping her elbow on the table and resting her face in the palm of her upturned hand.

Trouble in paradise already?

Oh no, we already went through that one, didn't we?

I take my place next to Mariah, who looks happy, seeing as though we had our 'couple' time last night.

Which basically involved us lying on the sofa in the sitting room and making Lassiter and Weasley feel as uncomfortable as was physically possible, which was really rather, if Weasley's face was anything to go by.

"Morning, Scorp" she greets, as cheerfully as a girl of her class and stature can, and lets me pour her tea, which is the most ritualistic that we ever get.

"So, I was thinking" she continues, as a pack of owls flies through a window and start distributing mail to various pupils, "Obviously after we finish school, we've got summer. I think we should get married then"

I can't help but choke a little bit on my coffee.

Her eyebrows rise as I splutter, but she stops talking, giving me time to reply.

"Don't you think that this year is a bit premature Mariah?" I ask, my throat burning and my heart racing, which is nothing to do with the coffee, and something to do with blind fear.

"Of course not" Mariah responds calmly, "Your parents got married in the summer after the seventh year, my parents got married in the summer after the seventh year, pureblood marriages are traditionally then"

Dear Merlin.

As traditional as I am, this is one convention I'd rather not conform to.

"I know, but our parents got married after the War. We don't have to rush it. There's no need" I say firmly, which is no use at all, because she's not buying it.

"There's no discussion about it Scorpius. When I said 'I think' what I actually meant is that it's already been arranged"

Cue more choking.

"You did what?" I gasp, uncharacteristically, as Mariah sighs.

"I didn't do anything" she replies icily, sipping her tea. "Our parents arranged it. July 29th. That's the day I become Mrs Mariah Malfoy"

I want to do the hyperventilating, hand flapping, tears thing that teenage girls always manage to carry off so beautifully.

But I don't, obviously.

"Right, okay then. Well, it's nice that I was consulted before all this was set up" I say acidly, and Mariah grits her teeth, in a way that reassures me that if it wasn't unbecoming to the situation, she'd be yelling at me right now.

"Like I was?" she snaps back. "Grow up Scorpius. I've had the ring on my finger since we were fifteen"

Which is true.

Unfortunately.

* * *

I carry my letter out of breakfast, since by the handwriting I can tell it's from my mom, and will therefore be a three foot epic saga, emphasised by the thickness of the envelope.

It's definitely an after dinner reading assignment, as opposed to a quick reminder from home.

"Hey, Rose, wait already!" Albus cries, since I'm storming ahead on my way to Transfiguration.

Sighing heavily, I fall back behind a group of giggling second year witches to wait for my cousin, even though I'm not in the mood for company at the moment.

"Something's wrong with you" Al announces, when he's finally caught up with me.

Is it really that obvious?

"No, there's not" I reply evenly, averting my gaze from his eyes, though he can still tell that I'm lying.

He's my closest cousin, of course he knows I'm lying.

"I hear that you and Daniel made it official last night" he says, in that questioning tone of his.

I just nod sullenly.

Damn Scorpius Malfoy.

"But you're not so happy about it?"

Now he's just being silly.

"Course I'm happy Al. He's gorgeous, and sensitive and polite. Mom'll love him"

I am such a liar.

Not that mom won't love him. And not that he's not all those things I just said. But, that I'm happy.

I'm not happy.

Can you tell?

"Come on Rose" Al pushes, "I've known you since forever, this isn't happy Rose" He lowers his voice to a whisper "This is Rose pining for Malfoy, even though she'll never be able to have him"

Why can my life not just be simple?

"Thanks for the input Al" I snap back, "Your own love life is just so healthy that I need your help"

The ever level-headed Potter just smiles and shakes his head, ignoring my low blow.

Which makes me about five times angrier.

"Look, Malfoy was just a one-off, alright? Would I be seeing Danny in Hogsmeade on Saturday if I was 'pining for Malfoy'?"

There is only the tiniest of pauses before Al responds.

"You can't" he says simply.

Oh, for Merlin's sake.

Can he not just keep his nose out of other people's business?

"Why?" I ask, cuttingly, "Because Malfoy is my one true love, it would be a betrayal of my deep seated adoration for him?"

The sarcasm even hurts me, it's so sharp.

"No" he replies pragmatically, "Because Quidditch tryouts are on Saturday"

Somebody somewhere has really got it in for Rose Weasley.

* * *

Every single lesson of the day passes with an ache.

Marry Mariah in July?

I always knew it was going to happen, like she said, I had that ring on her finger since we were fifteen.

And I knew that one day she would eventually have to become Mrs Mariah Malfoy, I just didn't realise that one day would be so soon.

It's like I can feel my freedom ebbing away from me.

Every time I breathe there is one less breath before we become the same people as our parents.

Our parents do not have harmonious relationships.

Like I already explained, there is a certain way that marriages in our type of family go.

It's not the true love, romantic approach either.

It's more of the 'oh look, we're even richer now' kind.

And, alright, money is important, image is important, but I'd rather not be tied to Mariah for the rest of my life.

I console myself with the fact that once we are married, I won't have to see her nearly so often if my parents are anything to go by.

I never thought I'd find myself saying it, but maybe there is something to be said for the way that Weasley views the concept of matrimony.

As in 'oh, I really love him, I want to spend the rest of my life with him'

Being a Malfoy brings the advantages of respect and wealth and all that, but it also brings the fact that I'm obliged to marry a girl I don't even like that much.

The more naïve of people would just ask whether I couldn't request that I don't marry Mariah.

These naïve people are also the most insane people on the planet, because this is the way that the conversation between my father and I would go:

"I know that this has been arranged for years but I just can't see me and Mariah getting married"

"And you think that I thought that your mother and I would ever work?"

"Well, it doesn't work, does it?"

"No, and if I had to do it Scorpius, you have to do it too. It's part of becoming a man"

See what I mean?

The insightful Draco Malfoy once again gives his son another pearl of wisdom.

I can see why nobody likes him.

And the horrific thing is that I will one day be him, and Mariah will one day be my mother and I will be just as useless when it comes to giving 'advice' to my son.

Years ago, I used to think that being a Malfoy somehow made me better than everybody else.

What it actually makes me is heartless.

Fantastic.

* * *

"No"

Not my favourite word right now.

"Please Freddie, I'm begging you here"

That stupid Weasley grin is the most irksome invention to have ever graced the face of the planet.

"I already moved them from last weekend so that Lils could make it, I'm not changing my arrangements again"

I really want to strangle Fred Weasley at this precise moment in time.

Really badly.

"But, if you don't move them then I can't go to Hogsmeade and see Danny" I wail, imagining how Al's face would look if I had to cancel.

"So, it's time to test where your loyalties lie Rosie. Quidditch or Lassiter? Although, should you even be seeing him? He's a member of the Ravenclaw team, after all."

With a screech of discontent, I hiss back "You close minded, victory orientated, malicious-"

My brain fails me.

"Kid" I finish lamely, which makes Freddie laugh harder.

Kid?

The best I can come up with is kid?

What's going on with my brain?

"Yes, that's me" he replies jovially, "Close minded, victory orientated, malicious kid"

I storm out of the Gryffindor common room before my nervous system fails me and I end up mortally wounding a relative.

"So, I'll see you Saturday then Rose?" Freddie calls out after me.

It's all I can do to stop myself from hurling curse after curse back through the portrait hole back at him.

Grandma Molly wouldn't be happy if she'd seen that conversation.

And there's her saying that Freddie's the most family spirited, most accommodating of her lovely grandchildren.

Did I already say that someone somewhere really has it in for me?

Yes, I did.

Well, I'm going to say it again.

Somebody somewhere has really got it in for Rose Weasley

* * *

"Do not speak to me"

Weasley doesn't look happy as she climbs through the portrait hole.

"Evening to you too, Weasley" I reply, looking up from an Astronomy essay.

She flops down on the sofa, shooting me one of her trademark 'evil' looks.

"I don't need you to make a bad day any worse" she says, but there's no bite in her voice.

"Need to talk?"

What?

What?

That just came out of my mouth?

Merlin.

She looks just as surprised as I feel.

"Yes, but not to you" she replies, and once again, the words have no real malice in them, so I'm not hurt. "No," she continues, "That's not true. Sorry Malfoy, that was uncalled for. Sure, talk, yeah, that'd be good"

An apology?

And before I can contemplate how weird this situation is (wands not out, no snarling, no shouting) Weasley is sniffling and spouting words that have no real meaning since I can only make out about one in three of them.

"Whoa, slow down" I plead, since there are now tears streaming down her face.

She's one of those girls who looks good when she's crying.

No red eyes, no puffiness, she looks normal.

Which doesn't help.

"It's just that, I thought-" she's burbling, and I am so out of my depth here.

I've never done this before.

Come on, Mariah isn't the type of girl that has ever needed a shoulder to cry on.

"Do you mind starting from the beginning, Rose?" My use of her first name is tentative, at the very best.

And so, that is how I come to know that Weasley feels nothing for Lassiter, she's using him to get at some guy that she likes, her family won't stop interfering, and something to do with Quidditch tryouts on Saturday, involving her cousin (one of many) and her hating life.

Right.

"Why exactly do you think that seeing Lassiter is going to help you out with this other guy?" I ask, and I still haven't asked her who this mysterious man is, because I don't want to push my luck.

"Read it in one of my mom's Witch Weekly magazines" she replies feebly, at which I just have to laugh.

"So your mother reads that rubbish as well, huh?"

At least I get a smile.

"Look" I say, as gently as I can, "Playing games like that, it's never going to work"

She doesn't reply for a lengthy period of time.

"Why not?" she asks, in a voice that is much younger than her seventeen years.

"Can't you just tell him straight?"

I'm exasperated but girls aren't as logical thinking as guys, it's a proven fact.

"It'd never work" she sighs, and her tears have dried, leaving her eyes glazed "Besides, he doesn't like me. It's obvious."

Okay, I'm in over my head right now.

I am not a relationship councillor.

"Why would any guy not like you?" I ask, and even though she clearly thinks that I'm on some weird trip, I actually mean it.

"It's complicated" she replies slowly, looking into my eyes without shuddering or turning away.

"If you like him enough complications will disappear over time"

She sighs again, showing that I really don't get this whole heartbreak thing, and says quietly, "Thanks for listening Scorpius"

Whoever knew that four little words could mean so much?


	12. Of Cookies and Creatures

**A/N: Sorry, it's so short, plces to go, people to see and all, but I did promise that i'd update everyday, so I figured that a short update was better than no update at all. And guess what? Rose and Scorpius don't have one snarky word with each other. Not one. So, I think the children are finally growing up. Finally. Let me know what you think, you know how much it means to me.**

**Disclaimer: Erm. My name is Amy (okay, Luce, Mimi) not Joanne? You get what I'm getting at, right?**

Another disgustingly early morning for me.

This time it's so that I can read the letter that my mom sent me yesterday, which I'd sort of forgotten about in the drama of the evening.

I grab the letter from my bedside table and open it in the precise way that I've inherited from my mother; from the centre out to the left, back to the centre and then to the right, all without ripping the parchment.

"_Dear Rosie" _I read aloud, _"How was your first week back at school?_ _Now, Rosie, I hope you don't mind me writing so brashly, especially after that episode with your father, but I'm your mother and we've never really talked about the estranged subject of 'boys.' As you know, your dad is slightly concerned about what he saw going on in your bedroom when he came to talk to you, and he asked me to talk to you, witch to witch. Please, Rose, try and understand that he is your father and he's bound to be a bit overprotective, but all I'm asking you to do is consider other people's feelings. I've never met Scorpius Malfoy and I'm sure if you like him he's a lovely boy, but if you want to be in a relationship with him then it might be wise to discuss it with your father and I first"_

The letter continues in a different vein, the usual, how everybody's doing at home (which is generally the reason her letters are so long) and the like.

By the end of it I feel all happy and snugly inside as if I'm back at home, but then I re-read the beginning and realise that

a) My mom is absolutely clueless when it comes to anything to do with the opposite sex and

b) My love life is a complete mess.

This is one of those times that I need Victoire.

Victoire has always been something of a specialist when it comes to love, because she's been inundated with love letters since the age of about five.

Damn that Veela blood.

I traipse around my bedroom for a little while, brushing my hair and locating school books but my wandering is aimless.

I feel pathetic.

And then, I realise that I haven't had one single thought about Danny since my crying session last night, and that makes me feel more than pathetic.

It makes me feel downright evil.

* * *

Weasley looks more than a little miserable when she comes out of her room.

"Morning Weasley" I say, lightly, testing the waters, since I don't know how she'll react after last night.

"Morning Malfoy" she replies weakly, and an awkward silence follows.

"Are you going down to breakfast?" I ask, with a roughness in my voice that I never intended to be there.

"Uh, yeah" she says, her speech awkward also, "We could go down together"

So, I open the portrait hole for her and let her go first, like the perfect gentlemen.

"Er, thanks again" Weasley starts, that awkwardness still present, "For last night, I mean, I kind of needed it, especially after, you know, Freddie acting like such a jerk and Al thinking he knows it all, and people just wouldn't-"

"You're babbling Weasley" I cut in, because it would be really quite embarrassing for her to have another break down, in the middle of a public corridor.

"Merlin, I am, aren't I?" she moans, clenching her fists by her sides and breathing deeply, "I really should just bang my head against the next wall I come to"

Since we are indeed coming up to a wall, and I'd prefer it if she didn't bash her head into it, I put my hand in the small of her back, and would have used it to guide her towards the staircase, if she hadn't jumped three feet in the air as soon as I touch her.

"What?" I ask sharply, thinking it's one of those 'Eew, I can't let a pureblood touch me' moments.

She shivers a little, and replies shakily, "Electric shock, that's all"

"Electric shock? What in Merlin's name is that?" I demand, as Weasley laughs.

"Oh, I'd have to go into electricity and all that. It's not even anything to do with electricity, I don't think. Maybe it's that static thing?"

There is no need to describe the puzzled look on my face, surely?

"Electricity? Static? What?"

"My mom's Muggle-born, remember?" she replies, and even though it's not exactly an explanation, I shrug it off and we continue on our way to the Great Hall.

* * *

"Somebody looks happy this morning" Lily greets, offering me a mug of coffee, which brightens my already pretty dazzling smile.

"Do I?" I ask, slipping next to her at the table and giving her a massive hug.

If this continues much longer I'm going to be happy when he's happy, moody when he's moody and even pissed at myself when he's pissed at me.

"Morning kids" Freddie chirps, shooting me that Uncle George grin that he shares with Hugo.

"What time on Saturday?" I ask cheerily, and my anger at him has kind of evaporated.

"That's the Rose Weasley I know!" Freddie exclaims, piling bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages, about fifteen slices of toast AND pancakes onto his plate. "Midday" he replies, as Roxanne looks at his plate, disgusted. "What?" Freddie demands, "Quidditch Captain here! I have to eat loads, just so I don't faint on my boom"

Roxanne flicks her red hair out of her face, and narrows her eyes in a very similar manner to Lucy.

"Those cookies?" she asks, puzzling Lily, Molly, Louis, Hugo and by the looks of it, Freddie himself, though, if we're judging by the voice emanating from his throat, that innocence might just be feigned.

"Cookies? Care to describe these cookies?" he asks nonchalantly, putting another forkful of breakfast in his mouth.

Roxanne's lips press together and form a thin line, as she replies through gritted teeth, "Of the chocolate chip variety. Bought by mom, for me. Disappeared sometime three weeks ago, before I even had a chance to open the packet."

"Oh, those cookies?" Fred says, and the look on Roxanne's face shows the rest of us that it's about time to duck under the table for cover. "Yeah, I ate them" he continues, and Molly covers her ears with her hands, just in case.

She is not disappointed.

"FRED WEASLEY" Roxanne screeches, and a first year Hufflepuff at the next table jumps in sheer fright.

"I'm off" I mutter, leaving Lily in awe of the power of our cousin's voice.

"Oh, alright" Lily murmurs inattentively out of the corner of her mouth, and as I leave the hall I can still hear Roxanne shrieking about cookies and personal space and crime.

Oh, how I love my family.

* * *

Care of Magical Creatures is one of those classes that you just can't take at NEWT level unless you actually enjoy it.

Which is why my parents completely freaked when I told them that I was going to take it last year.

My father went on about being attacked by a hippogriff, the teacher being an oaf, it being an unsuitable class for a wizard of my station.

To which I say, only an idiot could get themselves attacked by a hippogriff, Hagrid isn't the world's best teacher, but he knows Magical Creatures inside out and Lassiter takes the class with me, and his station is almost as elevated as that of the hallowed Malfoy's.

Lassiter and I are the only two wizards in the NEWT class, which is a class of only six anyway. The other four are witches; three Hufflepuffs and a Gryffindor, and that's the entire class.

So, whilst they simper over the unicorn that Hagrid has requested that Lassiter and I stand away from, we have a talk, merely to stave off boredom.

"How's Mariah?" he asks politely, over the squeals of delight, as the unicorn stamps a hoof.

"She's good thanks, er, Weasley?" I respond, supposing that if he'd asked, I should probably do the same.

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" he laughs, as if I'd forgotten that I live with the girl.

"Oh, yeah, 'course I do" I reply, and I want to punch his grinning face.

Better than that, I want to tell him everything that Weasley said last night, that'd really hurt.

But, I can't.

Even I know that what is told in those emotionally draining crying sessions stays between the two people conversing.

My mother does read Witch Weekly, you know.

"So, are you going to Hogsmeade with her this Saturday? Maybe we could meet up in the Hog's Head for a drink or something?" he asks, and I wonder whether this is his patented politeness, or whether he's been taking recreational drugs.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to be a gooseberry or anything Lassiter" I return, and the puzzled look on his face is satisfying, but I realise that I've just let slip a bit of information that I shouldn't have.

"What do you mean?" His tone is still friendly, but there is a clouding behind his brown eyes that I don't like the look of, "There wouldn't be a gooseberry. There'd be Rose and I, and you and Mariah. Like a double date. But you don't have to come if don't want to, it was just an idea" he adds hastily, as Hagrid calls our attention back to the lesson.

"Sorry, my thought processes aren't great at the moment" I whisper, as Hagrid explains the various virtues of unicorn blood and hair.

Lassiter doesn't respond, just gives me an odd look and I've never been more grateful that my focus is needed in class.

So, I guess Weasley hasn't told Lassiter that she's got Quidditch tryouts on Saturday then?


	13. Of Brooms and Flirts

**A/N: Eew, my computer is not behaving itself today, which is why this is taking me so long. Sorry, blame the computer. Oh, and this is for RafJK who has reviewed pretty much every single one of these chapters and has therefore been waiting for these moments for almost three weeks.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Never has been. Never will be. Bow to the fantastic JK, who owns it all.**

I have a visitor at breakfast.

Danny.

He catches me completely unawares as I'm draining my goblet of Pumpkin Juice.

"Morning Rose" he whispers in my ear, having swept my hair over my left shoulder, and planting a little kiss on my neck.

No tingling.

Damn.

I thought that maybe the sparks might develop over time.

"Uh, hey Danny" I reply, swinging round on the bench to face him, "What's up?"

"Nothing. Do I need an excuse to visit my beautiful girlfriend?"

Urgh.

Why does that sound so unnatural?

I hope it's just because no-one has ever called me their girlfriend before.

That will sound better in a few weeks, right?

I force a smile and say, "Of course not, you just surprised me, that's all"

I don't like surprises.

I like order and schedules and I do not like surprises.

"So, I was wondering, if today you wanted to meet Scorpius and Mariah in the Hog's Head for a drink?"

Is he drunk?

Intoxicated?

Wasted?

Never mind the fact that I can't go, but what gave him the idea that I want to sit at the same table as him, Malfoy and Salinas and have a friendly chat?

"Oh, right, about today, Danny, I kind of-"

"-can't make it?" he finishes for me, with a hurt look in his big brown eyes.

I nod apologetically and point my thumb over my shoulder at Freddie, "The Quidditch Captain over there refuses to change the date of the tryouts and I can't assume that he'll try me out at some other time, just because he's my cousin"

Danny smiles, and pats my hand, "I get it, Rose. Quidditch is important to you. We can go out some other time" he adds, turning away.

"Wait!" I exclaim, and he looks back, with a hopeful glint in his eye.

"Yeah?" he asks, looking over at Freddie.

"How did you know that I couldn't make it today?"

Not what he expects to hear, obviously, since his smile drops again and his reply sounds vaguely aggravated, "Oh, it's just something that Malfoy said in one of our classes yesterday"

He walks away for real, as I turn back to a grinning Freddie.

"Family first!" he says, which is another Grandma Molly philosophy.

I'm not exactly in the mood for Freddie's family spirit at the moment.

I'm feeling really rather betrayed by Malfoy.

* * *

"Can I have a word with you Malfoy?"

An irritated looking Weasley climbs through the portrait hole, as I'm getting ready to meet Mariah for our Hogsmeade trip.

"Can't it wait until I get back, Weasley?" I ask, staring at the almost empty box of tissues on the coffee table.

"No" she replies stubbornly, blocking my exit, arms folded tightly across her chest and an ugly scowl on her face.

"You'll get lines if you frown like that" I joke, but she's clearly not in a laughing mood.

"I thought" she hisses, her arms unfolded now and her hands on her hips, "That what I told you was in confidence, and that you wouldn't go mouthing off to my boyfriend at the first chance that you got"

"I never said anything about you using him" I retort, and I do not like the flash in her eyes that follows.

"Why, thanks for that" she replies sarcastically, at which I look pointedly at the watch on my wrist and sigh in a very 'is this going to take long?' manner.

"Maybe that's why we'll never be friends Malfoy" she sighs, and there's now a hint of sadness in her annoyed voice, "Because every time that I come close to trusting you, you screw up"

I fling my cloak off, and resign myself to the fact that Mariah is going to be mad at me.

"That's not the reason that we're not friends" I say, gesturing for her to sit on the sofa, which she promptly does, "The reason that we're not friends is partially because our families aren't exactly fond of each other. But the main reason is because we're similar people, Weasley, too similar, and because of it we clash. A lot"

She's not looking convinced.

"What I mean to say is that we're not meant to be friends, opposites attract, and we're not opposite. At all. And honestly, I never meant to tell Lassiter" I add, as an insurance policy, "It just sort of slipped out in conversation"

A few seconds of silence.

"Like I care anyway"

She sounds about seven years old as she gets up to leave.

"I'm going to get my broom so I can go and practise before tryouts"

The question is, if she really doesn't care, why does she feel the need to tell me what she's doing and where she's going?

* * *

"That wasn't the best I've ever seen you fly" Freddie comments, as I touch down to the ground, my hair windswept and the Quaffle under my arm.

"Well, I'm sorry Freddie, but I'm a bit concerned about the fact that I've had to pass up a date with my boyfriend in order to be here"

Liar, liar pants on fire.

So, yes, I'm concerned, but not about that.

I'm concerned that Malfoy doesn't think that we can ever be friends.

"Calm yourself Rosie Posie" Freddie returns, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "Don't worry, you still make the team"

I nod tartly, and walk over to the rest of this years Gryffindor Quidditch team; Louis, Lily, Roxanne, Duncan Logan and Aaron Caldwalder.

There are the usual mumblings from the unsuccessful candidates; five members of the team from one family and the Captain of the team hailing from said family.

Freddie, like Dominique and James before him, shrugs these comments off, insisting that he picked the team for quality over family loyalty.

"They'll be saying it all year" Louis' assurance is less than necessary, "That is, until we win the Quidditch Cup"

"Cheers Louis" Freddie's spirits are dampened by no-one and nothing, "So, how about we schedule our first practise for this Wednesday evening?"

There are general sounds of content from everyone and Lily grabs my arm tightly as I try to scamper off unnoticed.

"Excuse me, my dearest Rose, but I heard on the grapevine-" she starts, before I interrupt drily,

"Fantastic. More fifth year gossip"

A swift punch in the upper arm silences me, and Lily continues, "So, I heard that you and Danny boy are off to a rocky start"

"Don't call him that" I sigh, brushing Lily away, "And who'd you hear that from?"

Lily is preening herself for a bunch of sixth year Gryffindors who came to support Freddie in his first role as Captain, as she replies, "Well, Freddie overheard you this morning at breakfast, standing him up for tryouts"

I bristle a little bit at the fact that Freddie was gloating that he won out over Daniel, "Oh, for Merlin's sake Lily, it's your entire fault anyway. Freddie told me that he already moved the tryouts once for you, and he wasn't about to do it again"

Once again there's that famous Lily Potter pout, before she changes the subject, "I'm thinking of journalism. You know, for a career"

That would suit her perfectly.

A columnist for Witch Weekly, in which she spouts all the rubbish that nobody wants to know but everybody still seems to gossip about for three months, that'd be our Lily.

Of course, I don't say this to her, my reply is a little less scathing, "Oh, yeah, I could totally see you doing that Lils"

A now vaguely satisfied Lily sashays off to flirt with Freddie's friends and leaves me to go off to my empty sitting room.

* * *

"I don't have your full attention, do I, Scorpius?" Mariah sighs, twisting her silver engagement ring around on her finger. The emerald set in it glints in the autumn sunshine streaming through one of the windows into the bar.

"Sorry, I'm sorry, Mariah" I apologise, taking a swig of Butterbeer as her eyes narrow.

"So, I don't see any girls attractive enough in this bar for your attention to be captivated by, so what exactly were you pondering?" she asks, standing up, to indicate that she's had enough and wants to leave.

"Just Head stuff"

I can't really think off anything else, but my lie is not convincing, well, it wouldn't be since I've already used it before.

"That same Head stuff that you were doing when that love bite of yours appeared?" she demands, banging the door of the Hog's Head shut behind us.

"No, you know, rotas, schedules, lists, timetables and the like"

Yes, those were all synonyms for the same word.

It's the truth though.

I looked at my timetable last night, so that I could check the next lesson that I have with Weasley and Mariah.

"Oh, that sounds interesting"

No, Mariah isn't the fastest broom in the shop, and hasn't realised that all four of the chosen words actually mean pretty much the same thing.

"Ready to go back to the castle?" I ask, as we trail back into the centre of Hogsmeade, past Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where I see Dominique Weasley entertaining some fourth years from Hogwarts.

"Urgh" Mariah spits, as we walk past the shop, "I can't believe that there are so many of those. They're everywhere, they even follow me when I go abroad"

"Well, that is the original shop Mariah" I reply, after we've left the whizzes and bangs that are exploding from the shop.

"And how on Earth, do you know that?" she asks, one hand on her hip, in a position similar to that of Weasley earlier.

"It's just one of those well known facts" I return, as we begin the long trudge back up the hill to the castle.

* * *

I'm sitting on the sofa in the sitting room, minding my own business, when Malfoy climbs through the portrait hole, pulling his heavy cloak off and drops it on top of me.

"What was that for?" I demand angrily, dragging it off myself and smoothing my curls which have been majorly displaced.

"No real reason" Malfoy replies, "It's my turn for a word now"

"What?" I ask shortly, still annoyed.

"I had a chat with Mariah over a drink in Hogsmeade, and she happened to mention that she had an inside informant on all my evening activities" he replies slowly, looking me over.

"Yes" I say, nodding my head to show him that I'd appreciate a little bit more information.

"And she mentioned that her informant was you"

"Oh"

Oh. Well, that lasted long.

"What would you like me to say Malfoy?" I ask pleasantly, folding his cloak up for him, even though he was rude enough to drop it on me.

"Did you say anything to her?" He doesn't sound particularly concerned, which is weird, because you'd think that he'd be completely ashamed of being kissed by a mere half blood.

"Do I still have my essential organs?" I reply rhetorically, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Good point" Malfoy sighs, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"You know, Malfoy" I announce, a bit out of the blue, "This could be construed as the third civil conversation we've ever had, if you ignore the fact that you dropped a cloak on me at the beginning of it"

A tiny smile graces his features, "And how long is it that we've known each other? Seven years?"

"No" I reply, "It's only six when you think about it. You can only count seven at the end of this year"

"So reliable" Malfoy says, "It's no wonder you're never any fun"

I surprise myself by copycatting Lily's pout.

"It was just last week that I let you goad me into getting ridiculously inebriated from Firewhisky, Malfoy" I retort, and he laughs.

"That was more than a week ago, Weasley. You've gotta be able to have fun more than once a week, you know"

"Wasn't it only Monday night, or Tuesday morning that I was kissing you senseless?"

Dear Merlin.

Am I flirting with Malfoy?

"So, that counts as fun in your books?"

Dear Merlin again.

Is Malfoy responding to my flirting?

What is this world coming to?

"Yes" I say softly, "That counts as fun"

Our 'moment' is interrupted by a sharp rapping noise on the door.

"Who is it?" Malfoy and I snap simultaneously, as I wander over to the portrait hole to open it.

"Surprise" Danny says, Conjuring roses from thin air, "Roses for a Rose"

Blergh.

Because that line is so not overused.

"Lassiter" Malfoy is now at the portrait hole with me, and Danny is looking inside expectantly.

"Oh, er, come in" I gesture, as the tension in the air mounts.

* * *

This is clearly how Weasley felt the other night when I insisted on making a spectacle with Mariah.

I apologise profusely for that.

It's not fun.

"Er, Weasley, Lassiter?" I put in, whilst Lassiter whispers 'sweet nothings' in her ear, "It's nine o' clock Weasley, we've got to go"

There is an unsuitable note of relief in Weasley's voice as she gets up from the sofa hastily, "I'll see you out Danny" she says, shepherding him over to the portrait hole.

"When's your first practice?" Lassiter asks, as he's leaving, "I'll come and watch"

"Freddie's insistent on closed practices" she blurts speedily, at which Lassiter's face falls.

"Oh" he replies.

There's a lot of that word going on tonight.

As soon as he's left she practically faints onto the sofa, and murmurs, "Can we not send a pair of the prefects out in our place tonight Malfoy? I'm really not in the mood"

"Rose Weasley, shirking responsibility? Well I never!" I exclaim, poking her in the side.

"Please say yes Malfoy" she pleads, poking me back, harder.

"Who did you have in mind?" I ask, as my poke turns into a tickle.

"My cousin, Lily, and someone she really doesn't like. She needs punishing" she replies, reciprocating my tickle.

Before there is any confirmation of our stand- ins, we're having a full blown tickling war.

"Stop! Stop!" she shrieks, after only a few minutes, "Malfoy, stop, you're killing me here!"

"Lightweight" I laugh, but give up, as she struggles back to her feet. "Oops, we forgot to summon mini-Potter and her evil companion"

"Never mind" she replies breezily, stifling a yawn.

She looks so incredibly cute as she rubs her eyes and stretches her arms out.

"You couldn't go get her and choose the one of the Slytherin prefects to go with her, could you?" she asks, turning over on the sofa and snuggling into the cushions.

"Yeah, sure" I reply softly, backing out of the room, "Back in ten"

When I return, after eight of those ten promised minutes, I stroll into the sitting room and I'm confronted by the sight of a lightly sleeping Weasley, curled up on the sofa.

It'd be mean to wake her, so I cover her with the cloak that I hit her with earlier and clamber into my own room.

I've had fun tonight.


	14. Of Brunches and Banshees

**A/N: I'm replacing this chapter 'cus the last one was riddled with mistakes. I've rectified most of them, I think, I was really tired when I was writing the first version, and my spellcheck let me down.**

There is a vague sense of déjà vu in waking up.

The sofa is familiar, but there is a conspicuous lack of Malfoy, and also of a hangover.

It is altogether much more agreeable, especially with his cloak on top of me, smelling of him.

It's a very masculine scent, although a bit musky at the same time.

The best of it is that there's a torrential downpour outside, the first of the term, but I'm all safe and warm in our cosy sitting room.

The words total and bliss spring to mind.

The comfortable thoughts continue, until I glance at my watch accidentally.

The big hand is on three, and the little hand is on eleven.

Eleven-fifteen.

The time sounds quite familiar, and I realise why as I sit up and catch sight of a scrap of parchment lying on the coffee table. It reads, _Weasley, don't forget, brunch with McGonagall and the prefects at eleven-fifteen, be there, Malfoy._

Eleven-fifteen brunch.

Eleven-fifteen Rose is still in bed.

I let out a little scream.

Merlin.

As it is, I'm already dressed, since it was a bit of an impromptu nap that I took last night.

So, because it's a dire situation, I just sprint to the bathroom to brush my teeth, then drag a brush through my haphazard curls before hurrying along far too many corridors, because Head Girls never run.

I skid to a halt in front of the entrance to McGonagall's office, my way obstructed by a pair of particularly ugly gargoyles.

"Password?" one sneers, as I stand flabbergasted and completely out of the loop on the password.

As it is, before the other can say anything condescending, I hear the sound of a staircase moving behind the stone doors and McGonagall's tiny frame appears in the doorway.

"You're late, Weasley" McGonagall barks, in a way that is so familiar to me, "Come along, let's not keep everybody waiting any longer"

So, I follow her meekly as she climbs up the stairs, ending up in an office that I've only ever been in a handful of times. James was always the one that was consistently sent to the Headmistress; I've never really had the pleasure.

But I recognise the glorious portrait hanging directly behind her mahogany desk; twinkling eyes and arms outstretched in a gesture of welcome.

Who would be able to mistake it for anybody other than Albus Dumbledore?

* * *

Weasley's mouth is hanging open slightly in her reverence for the portrait of Dumbledore.

It's a look that is mirrored on many faces in the room.

Even I'm a little impressed.

The portrait, like every other in the wizarding world, is not stationary, but even so Dumbledore's seems more alive than any of the others in the room.

"I think that Professor Dumbledore has a few words to say before we start" McGonagall announces, looking respectfully up at the portrait, which clears its throat and smiles widely, "Welcome, once again, to another year of learning, and in your case, responsibility. My best wishes to Miss Weasley and Mr Malfoy, I hope that you serve the school as faithfully as your predecessors. Now, without further ado, I think you were all partaking of a spot of brunch?" The portrait's hands clap together and on the golden plates before us are the usual delectables, served at any Hogwarts feast.

I overhear Weasley gasp at her cousin, "He said my name. Albus Dumbledore actually said my name"

Mini-Potter doesn't look impressed, just shrugs and replies, "Yeah, and he said Victoire's too years ago, and he actually talked to dad all the time, you know, back in the day, so what's the big deal?" With a final rolling of the eyes, she turns to speak to the Hufflepuff prefects, and Weasley turns back to her plate, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like "Philistine"

I've no doubt that mini-Potter is just irritated because I dragged her out of the arms of some boy last night so that she could patrol the corridors whilst Weasley and I slept.

Not together.

Obviously.

She slept on the sofa, I slept in my bedroom.

Nothing exciting happens at our brunch, it's a mere ceremony that McGonagall instituted all those years ago, back when she first became Headmistress.

It's all over by half-twelve, a long meal by some standards, but McGonagall is insistent on our mingling, which mini-Potter does with ease, and Weasley does awkwardly.

As for me, I stick conversing with the Slytherin prefects, whom I know, even under the malevolent glare of McGonagall.

I do not do brunch.

* * *

Lily is talking.

I am not listening.

That is, until I hear the word 'Malfoy.'

"What?" I ask sharply, causing Lily's head to whip round, "What did you just say?"

"Malfoy and Salinas, tying the knot. July 29th, by all accounts" she repeats, looking at my face closely, "Why?"

I don't give her a reply.

That's because there is so much hot blood rushing about in my head at the moment that it's impossible to have one straight thought, let alone enough to form an articulate answer.

"He might have told me" I murmur, and it shocks me how little anger is in my voice, and how much hurt.

"Why would he have told you?" Lily quizzes, checking the polish on her fingernails, and paying no attention to the stunned look on my face.

Stunned, but wounded.

"Newsflash! You're mortal enemies, remember?" she adds, needlessly.

Mortal enemies?

I wouldn't say we were that bad, would you?

I force myself just to breathe, then blink, and only then can I regain control of my limbs.

Start with the reflex actions, and work my way up.

Baby steps, Rose. Baby steps.

"I remember, Lily" I reply drily, "You're speaking to the girl who lives with him."

"Not that I'd mind that" she says wickedly, that flirtatious sparkle in her brown eyes, "I mean, the guy's a jerk, but he's a hot one. What I wouldn't give-"

I don't want to hear anymore.

"Whore" I cut in, and even I can't tell whether I'm in earnest, or joking.

She, of course, takes it as a joke and cuffs my shoulder playfully, saying, "You're no fun, Rosie"

"No, I have morals" I reply, thinking about how devoid of morals I am.

I drop her off at her common room, and decline the invitation of entrance.

Instead, I trail back to my sitting room, promising myself that I won't cry, not again.

Clench jaw.

Breathe deeply.

Rub eyes.

Sniff.

I fail.

* * *

"You've been crying"

My insight is phenomenal, I kid you not.

Weasley obviously has the same opinion of my judgements, since she snarls at me, "Malfoy has eyes! That's lucky. You can go gore them on a unicorn now. Careful not to hurt the unicorn though, it's worth so much more than yourself"

Well, that was a tad garbled, to say the least.

"Sit down. Talk" I order, expecting her to bend to my will quickly, use up another box of tissues and leave smiling.

Alas, I'm not _that _insightful.

"Oh really, you'd love to do that wouldn't you, Malfoy? Practising sorting out your marital problems on me, are you?" It's not even a snarl anymore, it's more of a grimace, as if I truly disgust her.

She whirls past me, before I can talk sense into her and into her bedroom, slamming the door loudly.

I can't break the door down again, even an inanimate object such as it doesn't deserve that.

"Weasley?" I say, loud enough to be heard through the thick wood, but hopefully in a tone that is considerate and approachable.

Scorpius Malfoy, considerable and approachable?

And Harry Potter is a Z-list celebrity.

The sarcasm is too much, isn't it?

"Weasley, please. Talking about it would make it better. We've already proven it, and I can listen, you know. I'm not that insensitive a slimeball"

No reply.

I can't even hear any movement inside her room.

And Malfoys don't beg.

Thirty seconds pass.

"Weasley, I'm not going to beg, if that's what you want. Just talk through it like an adult"

Sixty seconds pass.

"You're acting like a three year old!" I exclaim, banging on her door with my fists.

And there goes two minutes.

"I'm begging here! Talk to me, I want to help"

Aah, signs of life!

The door opens a sliver.

I'm talking a fraction of a sliver.

Like, not even enough to see her hazel eyes.

"Once again, Scorpius Malfoy is on the brink of being considered as a human being, when he messes up again" she sneers, though her voice is thick and her remark is punctuated with pauses.

I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to have done this time.

"Rose, will you please come out and talk to me? Surprisingly enough, talking to you through a chink in your bedroom door is not exactly how I imagined spending my Sunday afternoon."

"No"

No scathing reply?

I must really have offended her.

* * *

He has the audacity to call me by my first name.

He is marrying that skank, and he has the audacity to call me Rose.

There is a voice in my head that's telling me to curse his perfect body to oblivion.

But I can now control that particular part of myself.

Just about.

"Please, Rose, this is getting silly now. How can I make up for whatever it is that I've done if you don't tell me?" The pleading note in his voice is quite pleasing.

If I didn't hate him so much right now I'd be enjoying myself.

"I would have thought it's pretty obvious what you've done Malfoy" I reply, attempting to keep the quiver out of my pathetic voice.

But, because I'm a pitiable Lion and a sucker for his voice, I open the door by another fraction, and look out.

Damn it.

Shouldn't have done that.

He looks wretched for some reason, which tugs at my heart, and makes me open the door properly and look him in the eye.

"You look awful" I say, revelling in his pain.

"Right back at you" he replies, a weak smile forming on his face as I narrow my eyes.

"You're marrying Salinas"

Not a question, a statement.

To which there is absolutely no reply.

At least, for a few tense seconds.

"It's planned that I marry Mariah, yes" he replies carefully.

Just put the atmosphere on a chopping board and take a knife to it, why don't you?

"I don't understand why it makes you mad though" he adds, his head held high, looking slightly arrogant.

Oh, for Merlin's sake.

Now I have to explain.

That, or lie.

Explain.

Lie.

Explain.

This is going to be painful.

"Sit down" I say roughly, feeling myself turn green with sickness, and red with embarrassment.

Great, so I'm saying this to him and I look like a quarter of the rainbow.

"This is going to sound so, so stupid to you Malfoy, but-" I manage to get this far without choking.

Now comes the hard part.

* * *

"I like you too Weasley"

The words are out of my mouth and hanging in the air between us before I know what's hit me.

I can't take it back now.

Or, can I?

"Like, as in?" Weasley asks, her eyes boring into mine.

Oh, this is so difficult.

"As in" I start, before choking like she did, "How you like me"

There is that flash of anger that I've come to associate with her especially.

"And you dare to assume that's what I was going to say?" she hisses.

Oh please.

I don't understand why I do these things to myself.

"So, what exactly were you going to say then?" I challenge, managing to remain more dignified than Weasley, who's doing a magnificent impression of a banshee right now.

That is, until her face softens and splits into a smile.

"You admitted it first"

Merlin.

I'm so weak.

"You little-"

Beauty.

That's what I want to say.

But I don't.

I hardly want to seem any more feeble than I already know I am.

"Oh shut up Malfoy" There's no snap in her voice, in fact, it's quite sultry.

"Come here you" I order.

You don't need me to spell out what I spend the rest of my Sunday doing.


	15. Of Daydreams and Reprimands

**A/N: Sorry about the time thing, once again. I've been out all this week, which makes writing difficult and all. So just enjoy and review, please.**

**Disclaimer: I've run out of stuff already, darn. Do you really not know what it's supposed to say by now?**

_It's slower than last time. More hesitant. It's like we're remembering one another's tastes. My face is still stiff from my dried tears, but his cool hands soothe it. His lips are baby soft, so soft in fact that when I bite down the skin breaks and the taste of blood fills my mouth. Not that it bothers me. Actually, it's kind of sexy. His tongue is doing things in my mouth that a wand will never be able to recreate, and it makes me feel-_

"Rose" Al hisses from my side, nudging me hard with his bony elbows, "Oi, Rose, anyone there?"

Ouch.

There goes my daydream.

"Albus" I mutter under my breath, "We're in the middle of a lesson, don't you know?"

It's true.

Charms, first thing on a Monday morning.

Rossetti is glaring daggers at Al, which he doesn't appear to be noticing, since his gaze is fixed firmly on me.

"Mr Potter?" Rossetti asks, having cleared her throat, "Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of the class, perhaps?"

Al flushes a little, not used to reprimands, and stares down at his desk as he answers, "Er, no Professor, I was just asking Rose what you were explaining, I didn't entirely understand"

"Oh" Rossetti replies, her glare lessened, "Miss Weasley, the rest of the class could benefit from your wisdom, please, continue"

What?

So, this lesson is about?

"That'd be, er, well, you see, the elemental theory is, essentially, that-"

I wasn't listening.

In the slightest.

"Miss Weasley, maybe, if you start from the beginning, then it would be easier to explain?"

Yes, the beginning.

That'd be great.

That is, if I had any clue what the heck she's going on about.

"The Fidelius Charm, Miss Weasley, you were explaining it to Mr Potter, I believe?" Rossetti is speaking to me as if I'm six years old. It's a sensation that I'm not used to, and I don't particularly like it.

"Ah, yes" I continue, thankful that she'd finally given me some clue as to what I was supposed to be clarifying. "The Fidelius Charm is one of the most protective Charms in the wizarding world. It requires faith in the Secret Keeper, hence the name, from the Latin 'Fidelis' meaning fidelity or loyalty. The Secret Keeper effectively hides the occupants of a house from harm, and it is only they who can reveal the location to another. The most famous Secret Keeper in history is usually mistaken for Sirius Black, who famously 'betrayed' Lily and James Potter in 1981. Of course, their Secret Keeper was actually Peter Pettigrew, who sold them to Voldemort, which teaches us the lesson that you should always choose your Secret Keeper wisely"

That should keep her happy for the time being.

Now, where was I?

* * *

_It's slower than last time. More hesitant. It's like we're remembering one another's tastes. Her face is still stiff from her dried tears, but they soften beneath my fingertips. Her teeth graze the skin of my lips, gently, at first, but she's clearly enjoying herself so much that she bites hard enough to draw blood. The gasp that escapes me betrays how I really feel about her. Her tongue is doing things in my mouth that a wand will never be able to recreate, and it makes me want to-_

"Scorpius, you are acting so incredibly immaturely about this"

I'm really not in the mood to hear her whiny voice .

Because she didn't just drag me from an amazing recollection of my Sunday afternoon, did she?

"Scorpius"

What is her problem?

I've only been freezing her out for, what, fifteen minutes?

A stiletto heel smashing into the leather of my shoe finally drags me back to the present.

"Mariah!" I grimace, "Was there actually any need for that?"

Ow.

Those things hurt.

"Well, if you would just listen to me there wouldn't be any need for me hurt you" She doesn't carry aggrieved very well, all that shines through is anger.

I didn't even realise that the words coming out of her mouth weren't the usual gossipy nonsense.

Well, I never thought she'd break the habit of a lifetime.

"Erm, immaturity, yeah, I totally agree" I agree, just to placate her.

Well, I heard the word immaturely, so I just assume.

There's that raised eyebrow of hers.

"You're already worse than your father, Merlin only knows what you're going to be like in twenty years time"

I hope to Merlin that she won't know what I'm like in twenty years time.

In fact, I hope she doesn't know what I'm like in two years time.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I wasn't listening, okay? Start again, alright, just stop nagging me"

You don't even have to bother imagining how this marriage is going to turn out.

Just accelerate time a few years into the future and replay this very conversation.

"You need to get new dress robes!" Mariah doesn't scream, her voice just drips with exasperation, "Your old ones are too short, so I was thinking of writing to your mother, and asking her to choose them, because you wouldn't know good taste if it hexed you in the face"

Hey!

That was uncalled for.

My fashion sense is perfectly alright.

I've never had any complaints before.

But what's the point in arguing?

"Sounds fine Mariah, sounds wonderful"

Goodbye freedom, goodbye liberty.

Goodbye my life.

* * *

"So what were you thinking about in that little daydream session of yours in Charms?" Al demands at the lunch table, which means that five pairs of eyes automatically turn to me; Lily, Lucy, Molly, Roxanne and Louis.

Can a girl not just have a little daydream about her supposed arch-nemesis during one of her classes without the Spanish Inquisition?

"Who said I was daydreaming?" I snap back, realising too late that I'm being defensive to the point of suspicion.

"Oh, I don't know" Al replies, before fixing a vacant expression on his face "Maybe it was 'that'd be, er, well, you see, the elemental theory is, essentially, that-'"

Oh, well done Al, that was a marvellous impression of yours truly.

Actually, everyone else does seem to think that it was quite funny, because there is an explosion of giggles, from everyone except our prim and proper Lucy, who stifles a laugh behind a hand before pushing her glasses back up her nose.

"I can deduct points from all you lot, you know" I threaten, waving a fork at my family loftily, which does nothing to suppress the laughter, if anything, it just gets louder.

I think about making a hasty, but childish retreat from the table; it's not like I haven't had enough practise this year, and it's only the first day of the third week of school.

"Don't bother Rose" Al says, obviously reading my mind, in that annoying way which has evolved over the years, "It's lost all effect, in fact, we're just waiting for you to slam that fork down and walk away"

Ah well.

They say that there can be too much of a good thing, don't they?

"So, go on" Lily prompts, and the little minx clearly hasn't forgotten the original purpose of the conversation, "Spill on this daydream"

I should stop lying.

Honestly, I'll make it my New Year's Resolution.

But, it's only September now, January 1st is months away.

"Who else?" I say smoothly, twisting a red curl around my index finger, "My boyfriend, you know, the guy I'm seeing?"

I think that spending so much time with Malfoy is having a bad effect on me.

I never used to be able to lie this well.

I suppose it does help having an actual bonafide reason to be daydreaming.

* * *

Weasley is skiving.

Yeah, I know, my head almost fell off as well.

That is, until she bites her bottom lip like an expert temptress and grabs me by my silver and green tie, pulling me towards her.

We have got to stop doing this.

She has a boyfriend, I have a fiancée.

But she tastes so, so good.

"We have got to stop doing this Malfoy" She clearly knows me better than I know myself.

"I have a free period, you're the one skipping class" I reason, breathing heavily, my arm snaking around her waist.

"Like you never skipped a class in your life" she laughs, pressing her body closer into mine.

Did I mention that we're currently in an empty Transfiguration classroom, where anyone could walk in, rather than in the privacy of our own common room?

"Anyway" she continues, "It's Arithmancy, I don't even like it that much"

Weasley, not like a lesson?

I should have got to know her a lot earlier, I've clearly wasted six years abhorring her.

"Oh, don't look at me like that Malfoy" she drawls, and even I, the master of the drawl, have to admit that she does it perfectly. "You didn't think that there was nothing under the surface of Miss Rose Weasley, did you?"

"I've clearly been underestimating you all these years" I reply, "Now, how far beneath that surface do I get to explore?"

Is the innuendo too much?

Obviously not, as she begins to plant tingly little kisses over the back of my neck, and whispers in my ear, "Well, that all depends on how nice you are to me, doesn't it?"

Could someone please explain to me when Rose Weasley officially removed that broom from her arse and became Hogwarts' resident flirt?

"Nice" I gulp, "I can do nice, or at least, I'll try"

Is this me submitting to her?

Forget illegal curses, she doesn't even need a wand to make my resolve buckle.

"Good" she says softly, her mouth still next to my left ear, "Now, shall we go somewhere a bit more private?"

Is she propositioning me?

Oh. Dear. Merlin.

She's far too much for a weakling like me to resist.

Well, she would have been if McGonagall hadn't strolled through the door, humming a lazy waltz to herself, and stopped us dead in our tracks.

* * *

"Miss Weasley, I never would have expected this of my Head Girl"

McGonagall looks mad.

As in, my-Grandma-Molly-clearly-took-lessons-from-her mad.

"From what I hear, you are currently in a relationship with a Mr Daniel Lassiter of Ravenclaw, and I know for a fact that Mr Malfoy is at present betrothed to Miss Salinas, so I do not expect to find you in an inappropriate position with him, especially not in my classroom"

What can I say?

Yes, I'm cheating.

He's cheating.

"And, there happens to be the fact that in order to attend this rendez-vous with Mr Malfoy, you deliberately missed your Arithmancy class"

And yes, I cut class.

So, put me in front of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad, won't you?

I do a couple of things that normal teenagers do, and everyone blows up at me.

This is unfair on so many levels.

"Professor, I am so incredibly sorry, it was a stupid misjudgement on my part, and unprofessional at that. I'm just feeling a bit under pressure at the moment, and it's manifesting itself in dishonourable actions"

Goodness gracious me, where do I get this stuff from?

"I'll be sending an owl to your mother" she starts, and holds up a hand when I try to protest, "Which is the very least you deserve, but I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, because you've never done anything like this before. How your mother decides to punish you, is, of course, her prerogative, though I have faith in her good sense"

Damn.

That means that there's another owl on the way, and if mom is insensitive enough to mention it to dad, another fireside visit.

Fantastic.

Just hand me the medal inscribed with 'World's Worst Head Girl.'

Leaving the office in absolute disgrace, I hear Dumbledore speak softly to McGonagall, "Minerva" he says, in his musical voice "Rose is young, and she's bound to want to rebel at some point. Hold off that owl to Hermione, won't you? Let her prove herself"

McGonagall murmurs back something that I don't quite catch, since I'm hurrying down her staircase.

Thank Merlin for Albus Dumbledore, that's what I say.

* * *

"McGonagall's pissed at us" Weasley announces, stepping through the portrait hole, assuming I'm alone.

I'm not.

The sight of Mariah stops her dead in her tracks.

"Salinas" she nods, coolly, having regained some form of composure.

Mariah, in turn, inclines her head graciously and looks at Weasley to carry on.

"Oh, yeah" Weasley continues, faltering, "About that whole thing with the, erm-"

"That dispute over the punishment of that third year, you mean?" I ask, expectantly, surveying her flustered face.

"Yeah, sorry, of course, I'm a bit caught up today" she apologises, whilst Mariah sniffs contemptuously.

"So, shall we confirm that then Scorpius?" she demands, in her BusinessWitch voice, flicking her diary to a seemingly random date and scribbling down something in red ink. I just nod before sneering, "Weasley, we don't need a babysitter" since she's hovering around the sofa, "The grown-ups are making wedding plans"

Her eyes narrow, and she storms off to her bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind her.

"My, you seemed to have touched a raw nerve" Mariah comments happily, tapping a seating plan, so that the chairs pick themselves up and move into formation.

"Do we have to do this now Mariah?" I yawn, covering my mouth with my hand, "It's just, the wedding is months from now, and I have a pile of homework that I have to do"

Mariah sighs heavily, a 'men-what-can-you-do-with-them?' type sigh, before piling all the scraps of parchment into a neat bundle, which she then levitates. "I'll speak to you tomorrow, you haven't even thought about a best man yet, have you?" she fusses, flattening a tuft of my blonde hair, determined to achieve perfection in my appearance.

A half smile graces her features which lets me know that she's satisfied for the time being, and then she climbs out the portrait hole, her pile of books suspended in mid-air beside her, floating along.

I sigh in relief the second that she's gone, and start to see a pattern; extracting Weasley from her bedroom appears to be my number one occupation for this academic year.

* * *

When I open my bedroom door Malfoy's fist is just about to touch the wood of it.

"Oh"

That's got to be the least that I've ever heard Scorpius Malfoy ever say.

"Yeah?" I ask, smiling at his confused little face, "Did you want something?"

"I was just coming to, er, get you" he replies, looking at me in utter bewilderment.

"And now you have me" I say, which I did actually mean to be a little bit saucy.

He doesn't have any reply to this.

Not surprising.

"Oh please, Malfoy" I snort, because his face has this naivety about it, "You didn't really think I took what you said to heart did you? I'm a big girl, I understand the rules of the game"

I've never seen one persons face move through so many emotions in such a short space of time; it goes from confusion to naivety to understanding to a little bit of annoyance and then back to anger.

All in the space of about a minute.

Poor Malfoy.

"You really aren't the person I thought you were Weasley" he says slowly, "I mean, Merlin, you're fun!"

I give him a little shove to show the utter contempt that I show for this statement, which, of course, leads to hands on one another, which leads to heart rates rising, which leads to all manner of physical excitement.

"So, what did McGonagall say?" Malfoy asks finally, once we've cooled off and are sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, merely for precautionary purposes.

"The usual 'Oh Rose, I never would have expected this of you, everyone will be so disappointed, I'm writing to your mother' Blah, blah, blah" I reply, though I don't hit the exact tone of McGonagall's voice, unfortunately.

"So, how come I didn't get a summons from The Almighty Headmistress?" he questions, and I notice that he has really cute little dimples when he smiles, something that I wouldn't have expected of him.

Well, I've never seen him smile long enough to notice them before.

"Merlin only knows" I say, taking care to look pained, even though I got off lightly, "She probably expects it of you, if she dragged you up to her office every time you cheated on Mariah you might as well get a personalised chair"

I don't give Malfoy a chance to retaliate to my comment, because I pipe up, "Nine 'o' clock, Malfoy, my favourite time of the day"

Okay, so it's technically only five to nine, but if we get into another 'fight' over my latest sarcastic comment then we won't leave until it's too late, and then we won't leave at all, and then McGonagall won't give me that chance to prove myself, and my mom will get that owl and it'd just be easier all round if we just got off our last asses and went.

* * *

"You realise that we've never actually seen anyone out of bed after curfew, never been able to enforce any of our powers" Weasley comments, as we saunter down a deserted corridor at twenty past nine.

Famous last words.

"Rose, Malfoy, just who I was looking for"

Lassiter's voice is starting to grate just as badly as Mariah's does, which is saying something.

I can feel Weasley's body tense up beside me, it's nice to know that she's as irritated by his presence as I am.

"Hi, Danny, what are you doing out at this time of night?" she asks, in a voice that is as pleasant as she can make it.

"Yeah, Lassiter" I cut in, trying to alleviate the pressure that Weasley is currently under, "We could dock points from you, so why don't you get back to the Ravenclaw common room like a good little Quidditch Captain?"

"Malfoy, stop throwing your weight around like you're better than him" Weasley sighs exasperatedly, "You know that if this was Mariah then I'd just let you go make out in a broom closet, or something"

Totally.

What she'd actually do is dock about one hundred points from Mariah and put her in detention for about three weeks.

But like she said, we've just got to play the game.

"We could do broom closets" Lassiter jokes, at least, I hope to Merlin that it's a joke.

Weasley, thankfully, chooses to ignore this comment, and Lassiter falls into step beside her, so that she is flanked by two guys, which seems to be her favourite position.

"So, Malfoy, have you done that essay for Magical Creatures? The one with the research on that manticore?" Lassiter asks, in an attempt to strike up some conversation, not realising that this conversation would freeze his girlfriend out, who doesn't happen to take the class.

So, I just shake my head and look at the ground, as Weasley says breezily, "We're almost finished aren't we Malfoy? We've just got to finish this floor, don't we?"

Are we?

Do we?

I was under the impression that we'd only done the top two floors, and still had plenty left to go.

"It'll only take, what, five minutes or so?" I reply, since she looks like she needs a 'Get out of Jail free card.'

"Oh" Lassiter's tone is disappointed to say the least.

Maybe he thought that he might finally get a chance to spend some time with his girlfriend.

Not likely.

"Well, I don't like to be in Malfoy's company any longer than I have to be" Weasley pronounces, with a theatrical sigh.

That is all that's said until Lassiter bids both Weasley and I goodnight at the bottom of the Ravenclaw Tower.

Once he's gone, Weasley says, "Let's just leave the other floors, it's not like we're likely to find anyone"

I'm all compliance.


	16. Of Confessions and A Real Kiss

**A/N: Ouch. I am sooooooo sorry. Like, 'i will prostrate myself in front of the Bull Ring' sorry. I went to Italy. Without internet. Which is unforgivable. And this is really short. For that I have a kinda bonafide excuse. Well, if you can call writer's block an excuse. My mind just refuses to succumb to romance right now. Bleh. Not happy. Well, enjoy if you can. I won't blame you if you don't.**

**Disclaimer: JK can do so much better. **

"What we're doing is really wrong, isn't it?" I ask abruptly, whilst adding the finishing touches to an essay due in next week.

There's no reply from Malfoy, so I reiterate my question, "Isn't it, Malfoy?"

He drops his quill onto the desk, and pushes his fringe away, doing his best not to look exasperated with me, "What's brought all this on Weasley?"

Well, that's a good question.

What has brought all this on is that today I had a conversation with Felicity Lassiter, the younger sister of my supposed boyfriend, and apparently a friend of my dear Lily.

The conversation went something along the lines of;

"Rose, this is Felicity. She's Daniel's little sister. I thought, you know, with you guys seeing each other and everything, you might want to have, like, some girly bonding time or something"

This is the point at which Lily ran off, before steam started pouring out of my ears.

So, I was left standing in the middle of a corridor with a fifth year that I didn't know.

"Daniel absolutely adores you, you know" Felicity said, smiling up at me with her charming chocolate brown eyes, "I reckon he'd do anything for you, absolutely anything"

Do you need to hear any more?

That was the first two minutes of my conversation with Felicity and it was more than enough to make me feel like a Grade-A bitch, and if they had an Order of Merlin for bitchiness, I'd have First Class.

Which is why I'm sitting deliberating the morals of my life (or lack of morals) whilst Malfoy is looking at me like I'm seven years old.

"You didn't have a problem yesterday, in that Transfiguration classroom" he states, quite rationally.

"I know, I know" I reply, confused out of my brain about all the feelings that are whirling around in my head, "But I'd never met the ever-so-cute, you're-my-heroine, my-brother-absolutely-adores-you Felicity Lassiter yesterday"

Yes, she had gone on to say that I'm her heroine.

She's idolising a cheating minx.

It was all I could do to stop myself spilling my heart to her.

So damned cute.

Why does he have to have a cute little sister?

"So, what exactly are you saying, Weasley?" Malfoy asks slowly.

Erm, this is wrong?

We shouldn't be doing this?

We should stop?

"I'm saying that I'm going to split up with Danny" I reply.

Am I surprised, am I not surprised?

I've been working myself up to it, I think.

But I never thought that I'd actually execute the action.

Not that I have yet.

"Good for you" Malfoy says, turning back to his own essay.

* * *

That wasn't the bombshell that I'd expected.

"Nothing else to say?" Weasley asks, and she still hasn't taken her eyes off me, even though I've clearly shown that the conversation is finished.

Am I supposed to say that I'm going to split up with Mariah and we'll be able to go public about this sordid little affair of ours and everything will be all right?

"Uh, no, I think that's all" I reply, putting the quill back down, because I'm obviously not going to get anything else written whilst she's rambling on.

"Right, well, I think I might just go and find Danny, let him know that it's over" she says, putting her parchment into her bag, and slamming it back down on the ground.

"It's over?" I repeat, questioningly, "You never got started, how can it be over?"

"Please may I just leave now Malfoy?" she asks, even though I'm in no way impeding her exit, so her question is not justified in the least.

"I never said you couldn't leave, in fact, please, just go and take your incessant babbling with you" I reply, and her face collapses.

Oh dear, have I hurt her feelings?

Right now her feelings are not my highest priority.

"No, I don't think I will" she says, her face set with absolute resolution.

What?

No girl is worth this much trouble.

Not Mariah, not Weasley.

"I thought, Weasley, that you were going to go and split up with your Quidditch Captain of a boyfriend and then your life would be straightforward, blah blah blah" I ask, and my patience is seriously waning.

"Malfoy, I don't exactly know what's going on inside my head right now, and you are just making matters more complicated" she snaps, and I hope the look on my face conveys what I'm feeling; absolute confusion.

"What?" I splutter, which is about as un-Malfoy as speech gets, "What have I done? This has got nothing to do with me. It's about you and Lassiter, end of discussion"

I turn back to the table, pick up my quill, dip it in ink, and hold it above the parchment.

One drip of ink.

Two drops of ink.

The third trickle of ink.

I slam my quill down.

"What are you still doing here?" I ask tersely, and when I look back up at Weasley her hazel eyes are shining.

Fan-flipping-tastic.

We're out of tissues.

"I thought, I thought" Weasley burbles, and even though in anybody else I would find this pathetic, in her I find it sort of endearing.

It only goes to show that women fatally weaken men.

I shush Weasley in a way that I hope is soothing, and take her damp cheek in my hand.

"Rose, this has got to stop. Seriously, I don't have the emotional capacity to handle tears on this regular a basis" I joke, and under my palm I swear I feel her cheek muscles move into the start of a smile.

* * *

"I'm being stupid, aren't I?" I ask, and I can't even remember how many times this is that Malfoy has usurped Al as the emotional crutch.

"Just a little bit" Malfoy replies softly, his thumb stroking my tear stained cheek in a particularly soothing manner.

"Will you just listen to me for five minutes, please? And I promise that I won't cry, or be pathetic in any way, honestly" I'm trying my very best to keep my voice steady, so that I appeal to Malfoy's inner sense of rationality.

He nods, and sits back on the sofa, getting comfortable for what he clearly imagines as the spectacle of the year; Rose Weasley baring her soul.

"I have hated you for so, so long Malfoy" I start, and even as I say it, I feel so horrifically evil. "That is the truth, on my mother's life. I never intently disliked you, I hated you with every atom of my being" Malfoy is look distinctly less comfortable than he did twenty seconds ago. I know this is cruel, and it's hurting me as well, but I've just got to get out and say it. "And I can pinpoint exactly why I hated you. It was because you were so perfect. Everything you touched seemed to turn to gold. You were popular, and smart, and so gorgeous" My pale face is flushing, I can feel it, and I can see a twitch in Malfoy's cheek that lets me know that he wants to smirk badly. But the fact that he controls it makes me love him all that little bit more.

There.

I said it.

I'm in love with the slimeball.

He coughs, which suggests to me that he wants me to continue with my litany of his flawless qualities.

"And also the most arrogant selfish-" I can't think of an adequate word to express how much he annoyed me for the past six years, so I just let out a strangled scream of frustration.

Malfoy's face doesn't change.

See, he's that egotistical.

"And for six years, that didn't change. I had James to tell me every single way that he'd like to torture you, and dad was less than complimentary about your dad, and all I could think about was your grandfather and what an immoral jerk he is. But now, I haven't got any of that going on in my head. I know it's only been two weeks, but two weeks is a long time for me, especially when it's living with you, and talking to you. And in that two weeks I've basically come to realise that you're not your father, or your grandfather. You're you, even when you are insensitive and I still do want to strangle you, at some times"

A wry smile graces Malfoy's mouth and he replies, "Right back at you"

"Shut up!" I laugh, and all the tension that I could feel building up in the air is suddenly burst like a bubble, and I don't feel like I've just told Scorpius Malfoy, a boy I've hated for six years, that I pretty much love him.

"You're unbelievable" Malfoy says, shaking his head slowly, and standing up to face me.

I think that's a good 'you're unbelievable'.

At least, I hope it is.

* * *

I take Weasley's hand in mine and sigh.

"Unbelievable" I repeat, and her pretty face is still smiling slightly, as if there's more that she wants to say to me, but she can't determine whether or not it'd be wise.

"Unbelievable" And this time the word is a whisper in her ear, and my arms are around her neck.

"I think I'm in love with you, Scorpius Malfoy" she whispers back tentatively, and the silent tears have returned.

There's this weird lump at the back of my throat.

She puts her head on my shoulder, and I stroke her fiery hair, as the lump at the back of my throat grows.

"Malfoy, my hair's getting damp" Weasley's voice is muffled, since her face is still on my robes.

I don't think either of us realise what her statement means until she lifts her head off my shoulder and stares me in the eye.

"Are you crying?" she asks incredulously at which I shake my head violently.

"'Course not" I sniff, even though we can both see the little salty droplets of water dripping off my face.

She wipes away one of my tears.

"I made Scorpius Malfoy cry!" she bursts out gleefully, hugging me tight around the waist.

She made me cry?

Merlin.

That just makes me want to cry even more.

But I don't, I pull myself together.

I just look her straight in the eye, and pull her closer to me.

And this time when I press my lips to hers there's this, _je ne sais quoi_, just, this feeling, like, I'm at home.

And I feel like I could stand there with her mouth pressed to mine for the rest of eternity.

When she sighs into my mouth, it's like every muscle in my body relaxes, to the point that I may as well sink to the floor like jelly.

After an unstipulated amount of time, maybe twenty seconds, maybe twenty years, she pulls away from me, placing her head on my chest. She places a hand over my heart and smiles up at me.

"I can feel your heart beating" she says unnecessarily, breathing slowly, deeply and evenly.

"And every one of those heart beats is for you" I whisper back.

I love her.


	17. Of Potions and Practices

**A/N: My head is actually spinning right now. I've been sitting here for like two hours, typing all this out, and I swear I'm seeing double. I've got to get back into practise with my computer, it's taken me WAY too long to right 4000 words. Enjoy, please, or this lightheaded feeling will be absolutely worthless.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm afraid. **

"Okay then"

Al slams his fork down next to his place setting.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?"

I blink at him like a baby doe, and reply brightly, "Al, stop being silly! It's me, your favourite cousin"

"Rosie, this is not normal behaviour" Al persists, looking me over in concern.

I smile widely, before saying soothingly, "You're so cute Al. I could just eat you!"

"See!" Al exclaims, accusingly, "I called you Rosie and you didn't even flinch or anything. And you were humming!"

I tilt my head t the right and reply, "Was I? I never noticed"

Al buries his head in his hands and groans softly.

"Yeah" Louis takes up, "Pachelbel, Canon in D"

I pat the blonde hair of my darling cousin and kiss him on the cheek.

"Louis, my dearest, I shall see you at lunch, and if not, then at Quidditch Practice tonight"

At which I float off.

For some reason the smile just won't dissolve from my lips.

Not that I want it to.

I just want everybody else to be as happy as I am.

Not even the prospect of double Arithmancy can depress me.

Oh, Arithmancy!

It always served my mother so well.

You know, I think I can grow to enjoy the subject.

Strange, I know, but right now, anything seems possible.

So, in class, I pay attention, and answer questions, and work

And even though pretty much everyone leaves the classroom with their eyebrows raised in a look of utter confusion, Professor Stoker leaves with a smile on his face.

And I leave with a feeling of fulfilment.

Love is ridiculously contagious.

I want to hug every person I see in the halls, and blow kisses at the portraits.

Not even the prospect of breaking up with Danny can depress my soaring spirits.

Because I know that once I've done it we'll both be free, and I won't be leading a life of lies and despair anymore.

It's like having a bubble of happiness inside my chest, and no matter how many horrific situations spring to mind, I can fight them all of with a flick of my wrist.

Peace, serenity, joy, _love _reign supreme in my heart.

I'm so happy, I might just burst.

* * *

When I think back to last night I know what I'm about to do is 100 percent right.

Doesn't make it any easier though.

I don't want to make a big deal out of this, so I choose a public location, assuming that Mariah's sense of propriety is going to override her need to slap me.

"Mariah, there's something I need to tell you" I start.

Well, I've never really been one for small talk and pleasantries.

Mariah doesn't deign to reply, just nods coolly to show that she's listening.

"Here's the thing Mariah. I don't love you"

Her face is blank, but I can almost read her mind; she's thinking something along the lines of, "Well, duh, I mean it would have taken Dumbledore to figure that one out"

Nevertheless, I steam onwards, because I want to get this over with as quickly as is physically possible.

"And that's not fair on either of us. You shouldn't have to be pushed into a loveless relationship"

Mariah's reply is as icy as her glare, "It doesn't matter to me"

"But it matters to me Mariah!" I burst out, drawing unwanted attention to myself.

I lower my voice back down to a natural volume and continue, "I've known you since we were tiny. And I always thought that marrying you would just be an extension of that relationship we had as playmates. But that isn't enough. Not for a healthy marriage"

"So, what exactly is it that you're saying?" Mariah asks, twisting the silver band around her ring finger.

I don't reply, just slide the ring off her finger and into the pocket of my robes.

Mariah's head is still held high when she demands, "So who is it that you've 'fallen in love with' then Scorpius? Go on, surprise me"

Once again, I don't give her a reply, but inadvertently my eyes lock with Rose's, who is standing on the other side of the corridor.

Mariah follows my line of vision, smiling sardonically.

Then her green eyes affix to Rose's hazel ones and her head jerks back, as if she'd been slapped.

As soon as the door to the dungeons is opened she sweeps haughtily past me, leaving me feeling liberated.

But also nervous, for Rose's sake.

* * *

"No Pachelbel" Al warns sternly, as we take our seats in the dingy dungeon.

Lorento glares at Al, and asks him to repeat what he's just said to me, because he's 'sure the rest of the class is just dying to hear.'

Oddly, Lorento is the one Professor that Al can hold his own against, so he repeats, with an Uncle Harry cocky grin, "I told Rose not to do any humming to Pachelbel, sir"

Lorento smirks, and rather than embarrassment I feel pride at Al's courage, because when you're in love negative feelings don't tend to exist.

"And why exactly would Miss Weasley be humming Muggle music in my class?"

Lorento directs his question at neither of us in particular, so Al takes it upon himself to answer.

"Do you know sir, I don't have a clue, I've been trying to squeeze it out of her since breakfast"

Lorento looks like he's about to sentence Al to fifty detentions, when a cool voice pipes up, "Oh, I'll tell you why, Potter"

The dungeon buzzes with quiet comments for a few seconds, whilst Lorento clears his throat and says threateningly, "Miss Salinas, I suggest you confine your gossip to outside of my classroom"

Mariah, who is now standing, her face contorted with the unattractive expression of hatred, laughs, "It's because she's so head-over-heels in love"

There is more muttering in the dungeon and Lorento looks irate.

"Enough" he bellows, his echo ringing throughout the room. "Miss Salinas, Miss Weasley, Mr Potter, I'll speak to you after this class"

He flicks his wand at the board, and a set of instructions appear.

"Get on with it then!" he roars, and the class jumps collectively.

I look to Mariah, who's still standing up, her mouth open, as if ready to continue.

Then, without warning, she turns on her designer heels and flees from the classroom, the door clanging behind her.

From in front of me I hear Danny's voice, sounding overjoyed, "I really never knew that you felt like that about me, Rose. I mean, I knew I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you, but it always seemed sort of unrequited"

Suddenly, that happy feeling has been replaced with a sinking feeling.

Not good.

* * *

"Put the wand away" Weasley says wearily to Potter, who is currently pointing his directly at my chest.

Potter's wand arm doesn't move an inch, and Weasley's voice is higher pitched the next time she speaks, "Don't turn this into a duel Albus, you'll regret it for the rest of your life"

Potter hesitantly lowers the wand from my chest and spits, "If you'd been privy to the last conversation I had with Malfoy, you'd be begging me to jinx him"

"Leave" Weasley orders tersely, "Al. Leave. Now"

Potter walks backwards away from us, his eyes trained on Rose and his wand on me.

As soon as he rounds the first corner and is reasonably out of earshot, I say, "I could have taken him, you know. There was no need for you to step in like that"

Weasley takes hold of my wand arm and lowers it to my side.

"Let's get people a bit more suspicious, shall we? You and my cousin coming to blows outside of a Potions dungeon, that's just what we need"

So, maybe waiting for her after class wasn't such a great idea.

"Mariah didn't seem to take the news so well" Weasley says quietly, as we make our way back up the steps from the dungeons into the Entrance Hall.

I say nothing, because there doesn't seem to be any need.

"I'm going to go see Danny after I eat" she adds, even more softly, "Give him the bad news"

Since there's no one in the Entrance Hall, as Rose had been held up at the end of class, I grab her by the waist, and swing her towards me, "Bad news for Lassiter, good news for me"

She pecks my cheek lightly, before untangling herself from my grasp.

"Wish me luck" she says simply.

"Good luck" I reply quietly, as she sweeps open the big double doors of the Great Hall and strides in, with all the authority that befits a Hogwarts' Head Girl.

* * *

"Where has all this radiance come from, so suddenly?" Louis asks, as I sit down at the Gryffindor table to hastily shove some food down.

But as soon as I raise a forkful of chicken pie to my lips I find that my stomach is tying itself in knots and eating wouldn't be entirely productive.

So, I place my fork back on the table, and smile at Louis, "Haven't the foggiest, Louis"

Molly pops up at my left elbow, still a midget of a fourth year.

"Rose?" she squeaks tentatively, reminding me of her childhood nickname; Molly the Mouse. "Rose, can I speak to you please?"

Seeing as how I can't eat, spending a few moments with Molly isn't going to seriously distract me from any major plans, so I take her hand and lead her off into the Entrance Hall, settling at the bottom of the staircase.

"Something bothering you Molly?" I ask, my voice full of genuine concern.

I constantly worry for Molly; she has none of the self-assertion of Lily, or Roxanne.

She nods her head timidly, and I squeeze her hand in support. And then, whilst I'm stroking her hair gently, she blurts out, "You kissed Scorpius Malfoy"

From anyone else this might have seemed like an accusation, but from Molly it sounds merely like a statement.

Nevertheless, it is a statement that suspends my hand in midair and makes my mouth drop open.

"I didn't mean to" she sniffs, tears already starting to well up in her eyes, "I was coming back from the bathroom, and he had his arms around your waist, and then you kissed him. I wasn't spying on you, honest Rose"

I press her hysterical head onto my shoulder, and let her get her tears out of her system.

When her sniffling has stopped, and there is no longer any need for me to Conjure Kleenex I turn to her and say sternly, "Molly, you're a bright girl, and so you probably know what I'm about to say to you. You cannot tell anyone. Not Lily, not Lucy and not even Louis. And anyone includes your friends too. You can't breathe a word of this to anyone. This is going to be our little secret, okay?"

Molly looks like she's about to dispute the morality of keeping secrets, so I ask her, "Do you just want me to perform a Memory Charm on you?"

Most other people would have taken it for a joke, but Molly shakes her head violently and scurries back off to the Great Hall.

At the doors, she turns back to me and presses a single finger to her lips.

"Good girl" I think to myself.

All I can do now is wait until Danny finishes his lunch so I can explain that our travesty of a relationship is no more.

* * *

Mariah is not at lunch.

I am, however, getting dirty looks off some of her friends; people I would have once considered fine specimens of humanity I can now see for who they really are; shallow, spiteful and selfish.

"You really don't know a good thing when you have it, do you Malfoy?" A raven haired witch hisses at me, so I can assume that Mariah has told people that we've split up, at the very least.

There's been no mention of 'blood traitor' as of yet, so I can still hope that Rose has time to come clean to Lassiter, before we become the subject of Hogwarts scandal.

I give no reply to the gossip seeking harpies who surround me, I just stare sullenly at the tablecloth in front of me.

When I look up again my gaze wanders to the doors of the Great Hall, just in time to see Lassiter slip out.

He looks happy, more than happy even, and it finally occurs to me what he must be thinking about Rose, what he has deduced from Mariah's spectacle in Potions.

The poor man thinks that Rose Weasley is head-over-heels in love with him, when in fact her heart belongs to another.

Me.

I still find that odd.

That Weasley and I reciprocate one another's feelings, that she can make me feel the way that I do.

It's all poetic.

It doesn't take me long to succumb to the apprehension, so I sneak, as surreptitiously as a man of five foot eleven, with shining blonde hair can, along the Slytherin table, and out to the doors.

I slip through them like Lassiter did, and look into the empty Entrance Hall.

Even though I know Rose has more tact than to break up with her boyfriend in the middle of the Entrance Hall, I can't help but be dismayed that I'm not there.

To give her moral support and all.

So, I place myself on the bottom step of the staircase and wait.

I assume wherever the unhappy couple are they're going to have to come through the Entrance Hall sooner or later.

And I assume correctly.

About three minutes later there is a creaking sound from behind me, which I don't recognise, and from a well hidden broom closet emerge Lassiter and Weasley, both looking content.

Neither of them notice me until I stand up on the stairs and clear my throat.

When Lassiter turns to look at me I see a look of understanding cross his face, and he walks across the Entrance Hall, his footsteps loud on the marble floor, his right hand outstretched.

I grasp it, and he smiles sadly, "It all makes sense now. The better man won, Malfoy"

After patting Rose gently on the shoulder he heads back up the staircase, leaving Rose and I standing alone.

Once again, we're both young, free and single.

* * *

"Erm, boss?" Duncan Logan calls out to Freddie, who is already swooping round the hoops at one end of the Quidditch pitch. "There's someone watching us"

Freddie's reply is nowhere near as scathing as it should be.

"Logan, every time we play there's going to be a whole load of people down there. Think of it as a practice run"

Now that our spectator has been drawn attention to, everybody is far more interested in who it is than playing Quidditch.

"Uh, Freddie" Lily calls out, having shot to the ground on the pretence of collecting her dropped Beater bat, "I believe out mystery guest is none other than Scorpius Malfoy"

Freddie does not let this nugget of information bother him, instead he throws the Quaffle out to me, and shouts, "I don't care if the entire Slytherin Quidditch Team is down there, I'd like to see you people play, if it's not too much trouble?"

Caldwalder and Logan immediately snap to attention on their brooms, whilst Roxanne and Lily snort over Freddie's attempt at asserting himself. Louis is in a world of his own, pursuing the Snitch that he let out twenty minutes ago, which leaves me, holding the Quaffle, and floating in midair.

So I do what is only natural for me to do and fly at Freddie, dodge to the right, then lob the Quaffle through the centre hoop.

"That's my girl" Freddie cries enthusiastically, which is a cue for everyone else to assemble themselves into some sort of order and do what Freddie asked of us half and hour ago, which is for us all to take shots at him, so he can keep, the Chasers can shoot, and the Beaters can learn what they should be doing if the fatal eventuality of all three of us Chasers being knocked out of the game should ever arise.

Louis is left to his own devices with his little golden ball.

A long time ago somebody learnt that Louis should never be disturbed whilst practising Quidditch.

He takes it _very _seriously.

Almost to the degree that he's no longer a member of the team, but a completely separate team of his own.

But at the last minute he always manages to pull himself back, succeed in his aim, catch the Snitch and rejoin the rest of us who are passing the Quaffle in a circle, hovering thirty five feet in the air.

* * *

Each of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team that pass me on their way to the Changing Room acknowledges me in their own way.

Fred Weasley, as Captain, is first to pass me and enter, asking jovially as he walks by, "Hope we didn't scare you too badly, Malfoy? Do remember that our team has the unfair advantage of being previously bonded, since we pretty much are all family"

I give him no reply, and he expects none, just winks at me, and carries on inside.

Caldwalder follows, and he looks me up and down nervously, being new to the team, and only a third year, the youngest person there. "So, you're the Slytherin Seeker" he asks eventually, to which I return coolly,

"No, the Keeper"

The Chaser's eyes widen as he once again takes in all of me, then scurries after the Captain into the Changing Room.

Louis Weasley is the next to follow, still clutching at the Snitch that he's been chasing all evening. He affords me no other acknowledgement than a slight incline of the head, which I return, and he too has disappeared through the doorway.

Mini-Potter ambles after her cousin, and when she passes me her sultry eyes light up and she asks, "Girlfriendless, are we now Malfoy?"

Once upon a time, a beautiful girl like her would have turned my head in an instant, but I'm perfectly at ease when I reply, "I've got my sights set on someone else, Potter"

Nothing about her body language suggests that I've just turned her down, instead she turns to Logan, who is not far behind her, and says, "It's his loss, isn't it Duncan?"

I recognise Logan now as the young man whose arms I pulled Lily out of last Saturday.

He promptly smirks at me and says, "You don't know what you're missing Malfoy"

"I assure you Logan, you kids can't get up to anything that I haven't already done a hundred times better."

So, the pair of them amble off through the Changing Room doors.

Then it is the turn of Roxanne Weasley, who walks past me with a, "Evening Malfoy"

"Evening Weasley" I reply, and having known Rose for two weeks I'm not particularly shocked by Roxanne' civility towards me.

And then, _finally_, Rose herself sidles past me, smiling shyly.

"Don't be long" I say quietly, because I've survived the chill of a September evening and six Gryffindor Quidditch players, just to see her.

"I won't" she promises, equally as quietly, before she too disappears through the doors of the Changing Room.

* * *

"So, why do you suppose Malfoy was really down there tonight?" Roxanne asks, as she screws up her Quidditch robes into the most untidy ball she can manage.

"Just wanted to see out form" Logan replies simply, and I bet he doesn't notice that I've noticed where his hand is, and that is on the small of Lily's back.

Lily's naked back.

"No" Louis says, and that is everyone's hint that he's come out of his Quidditch world and is back among the living. "There's no point. It was out first practice. They're going to want to see what sort of progression we're making, not what point we're starting at"

The boy always makes such perfect sense.

"So, he must be here to see one of us in particular"

Okay, maybe he takes perfect sense too much of the time.

Everybody in the room exchanges a glance, before simultaneously bursting out, "Lily!"

Lily sighs theatrically, before slumping gracefully onto a bench. "Alas" she replies, her hand flung over her face, "It's not true. The delectable Mr Malfoy just point blank refused me"

When the dramatic fake sobs get too loud for comfort, Roxanne takes control of the situation with a simple pinch.

"Ouch" Lily moans, loudly, "I was playing! No need to commit Grievous Bodily Harm"

She is quelled with one look from Roxanne which clearly says, 'Shut up you dramatic little brat'

Lily turns sulkily back to her robes, and starts folding them meticulously.

Lily has never been one for arranging anything meticulously, except perhaps her shoe collection, so she is clearly still playing the drama queen.

"Still leaves the question of what Malfoy wanted" Freddie says, shouldering her broom, because he's ready to go, before everyone else, of course.

"Does it really matter all that much?" Louis asks, voicing my exact opinion.

There is a collective shrug from the entire team, as everyone once again busies themselves with packing up kit and chatting about the mundane trivialities of school life.

I deliberately slow myself down, so that one by one (or by two, in the case of Lily and Logan) the room empties around me.

The last person to bid me goodnight is Roxanne, who marches out purposely in front of me, striding through the crisp evening air.

And when I eventually leave, Malfoy's still standing there, still waiting for me.

* * *

"I thought you weren't going to be long?" I accuse, as Weasley steps from the Changing Room, with the shy little smile I've come to associate with her firmly plastered to her face.

"Sorry" she replies quietly, as I hold out my hand as an offer to take her broom from her,

"Ah, you got the Hermes" I say softly, as we saunter over the lawns towards the castle, "2020, I mean. I got the Mercury"

Rose smiles brightly and laughs, "We've got twin brooms? How weird is that?"

I don't think it's weird at all.

If anything it shows how similar we are.

She's clearly replaying the same conversation over in her head, because before she can open her mouth, I say, "I said we could never be friends, I didn't say I didn't love you. There's a world of difference. Yes, we clash, all the time. It's because we're both stubborn-"

"I don't think you can love someone without being their friend" Rose cuts in, and her voice seems scared, even more scared than when she admitted she couldn't life the Imperius Curse on me.

Which is the point at which I come to realise that over the past two weeks I've come to consider Rose Weasley as a friend, without realising.

The way I let her cry on my shoulder, then clean up the Kleenex that she inconveniently leaves lying all over the sofa.

"Rose, you're my best friend. My only friend" and my words have a pleading tone about them.

As we step into the Entrance Hall, she turns to me and admits, "If we don't count my family, I think you'll find you're my best friend too Scorpius"

I've never had a best friend before.

There were family friends I played with when I was little, and acquaintances at Hogwarts, and Mariah, who comes in a separate category all to herself.

"If I wasn't carrying your broom I'd pick you up and kiss you" I say, my voice echoing off the marbled floors of the Entrance Hall.

"I can wait" Rose replies, as we begin to climb the first of the six flights of stairs that will take us to the correct floor.

"Do you reckon there's something going on between Lily and Duncan Logan?" she asks, halfway to our rooms.

I swear Rose has some kind of psychic ability, because as soon as we round the corner for the next flight of stairs, who should we see but mini-Potter and Logan locked in a vicious looking embrace.

A flash of anger crosses Rose's hazel eyes, but then, after I put my free hand on her arm, she smiles slightly.

"Well, we can hardly judge can we?" she whispers to me.

I give her no reply, but cough loudly and say, "Very classy kids"

As mini-Potter and Logan jump in fright, Rose and I sprint up the next flight of stairs, and collapse on the fifth floor landing, giggling like a pair of love struck teenagers.

And then it hits me.

We are a pair of love struck teenagers.


	18. Of Sofas and Pillows

**A/N: My apologies for the length and the pure randomness. It was written whilst I was at the crossroads of about 15 conflicting emotions, and because of that, it's turned out a bit wierd. I blame everything and everyone but myself.**

**Disclaimer: You really should have got the picture by now.**

By my count this is the second time that I've woken up next to Scorpius Malfoy.

And also the second time that I've felt ill, (not to be mistaken for pregnancy, there are a few requirements for pregnancy that I don't quite fulfil) but this time I want to vomit, not because of a hangover, but because I'm giddy with, well, _love. _

Ridiculous, I know.

And I can hardly say that I've been waiting for this my entire life, because up until two weeks ago I'd never said a civil word to Malfoy.

"You awake?" Malfoy mutters, jolting me back to my senses.

I mumble and squirm in his arms for a reply.

"You know" he continues, "We should stop sleeping on the sofa, it really can't be good for our backs"

And the weird thing is, I don't even think that Malfoy is insinuating that I should sleep in his bed, he's just uncomfortable.

"You big baby!" I exclaim, laying my head against his chest, "Well, I'm perfectly comfortable, thank you. What time is it?"

"Only because you've got me as an extra cushion!" Malfoy retaliates, tugging at one of my curls like a five year old, before groping around for his watch on the coffee table and adding, "Quarter past eight"

I stretch out a little bit, then settle myself back down in his arms, "We should probably get going soon" I say, feeling no more awake than I did five minutes ago. "It's going to be weird" I continue, and my stomach has gone back to tying itself into knots, "I mean, we're going to have to tell people. And some are going to be more welcoming of the information than others"

Malfoy grasps my wrist, which is more comforting than you could ever imagine, and replies quietly, "We could leave it a little while, if you like. Keep it our secret. Just until Mariah and I have blown over"

Then, as an afterthought he adds, "And you and Lassiter, of course. But mainly Mariah and I"

Before I get caught up in tickling him to death for his impertinent (but quite true) remark, I kiss his cheek softly and then reply, "Do you mind? I could do with a couple of days to get things straight, tell Al and stuff. And if I can do that, then I won't be so scared to death of telling my dad that we're, you know-"

"We're what?" Malfoy asks, in a low tone, because I've fallen scarily quiet.

"We're together" I finish, lacing my fingers between his.

He breathes gently on me, and then we initiate the tickling war that has been on the cards for the past few minutes.

* * *

"Do you think it's going to be weird?" I ask, as Rose and I stroll down the stairs to breakfast, "What with us turning up together and not looking like we want to rip each other's throats out?"

Rose's reply is a withering look, which I don't think I deserve.

Girlfriend's prerogative, I suppose.

Not something I would ever have let Mariah get away with, but then, she was my betrothed, not my girlfriend.

No, a girlfriend is a girl you choose because you love her.

And that girl is Rose Weasley.

I shut up for the rest of the short journey to breakfast. Now that Rose has reassured me,(okay, reassured, shut me up, it's all the same thing) I'm perfectly content to walk along next to her, 'accidently' brushing my fingers against hers at regular intervals, provoking the cutest little half smiles that I love so much.

"Okay then, Malfoy, this is just breakfast, same as the past two weeks" Rose states calmly, as we stand in front of the ornate double doors that serve as the entrance to the Great Hall.

She puts her left hand on the door and pushes firmly.

The door swings open and she marches through purposely, looking every inch my Rose Weasley.

I follow, hoping that my expression is adequately Malfoy-ish, and not so much love struck teenager.

My subconscious hopes are dashed.

Secretly, I'd hoped that as soon as we walked in the entire place would fall silent for a few seconds, and then erupt into excited whispers about Hogwarts' new beautiful couple.

Of course, no such thing happens; Rose seats herself next to Potter without so much as a backwards glance at me, and I continue along the Slytherin table, wondering how my break up with Mariah will have affected the seating arrangements.

As it happens, it hasn't affected where I sit at all.

I slip into my regular seat, as I always do.

Mariah has taken the initiative of sliding a few places down the table, towards her girlfriends, including the raven haired harpy who was so delightful to be yesterday.

Breakfast is, well, normal.

I have coffee, black with two sugars, and toast.

Mariah, I can see from where I'm sitting, is drinking her regular tea, and eating pretty much nothing, a trait she shares with the five or six other seventh year Slytherin girls who surround her.

I know that Rose and I agreed that we'd wait before we made it official, but I'm sort of disappointed in the Hogwarts' rumour mill.

It's not working anywhere as efficiently as it used to.

If I'm being honest, breakfast is a complete anti-climax.

* * *

"Is something wrong Molly?" Lily asks kindly, whilst pouring Pumpkin Juice into her goblet.

Molly's terrified little eyes flick to me very quickly before she squeaks back, "No"

That's all that Lily gets, that one little squeak.

Roxanne rolls her eyes in complete exasperation, buttering toast liberally.

She has, on several occasions, offered to give Molly 'self confidence training'

Al and I think that it would just be an excuse for Roxanne to start beating Molly up, in the name of character building.

Molly clearly still thinks that I'm contemplating that Memory Charm.

That'd be rather difficult, because I never really contemplated the Charm in the first place.

Well, let's face it, the last time I preformed a spell that I shouldn't have it was an Unforgivable Curse.

There are general sounds of annoyance at Molly's underdeveloped personality, as everybody goes back to their breakfast routines; spreading jam, squirting ketchup, and the like.

I am in the process of transferring a piece of kiwi from my fork into my mouth when that familiar little squeaky voice pipes up, "I saw Rose kiss Scorpius Malfoy"

I kid you not, my entire family falls silent.

Every last one of them

And then, after a few seconds of silence people start to choke, realising that there is, in fact, still food in their throats (myself included.)

Lily is the first person to speak.

"Rose? Really? No way! You? And Malfoy? What?"

On her own Lily has managed to portray the emotions of the large majority of my family, except perhaps Al, who is almost chuckling on my right.

I don't what he's got to laugh about, seeing as how Molly has just single handedly managed to ruin my life.

Okay, so maybe that's an exaggeration, but I'm still angry.

Very, very angry.

I figure that now is as good a time as any to enlighten Al (Once again, thank you Molly) so I excuse myself, quietly, from the table, taking the sleeve of Al's robe, and therefore Al too, along with me.

As I walk up the table, towards the Entrance Hall, I can feel the eyes of every member of my assembled family bore into my back.

I can also feel a softer pair of eyes, not from the Gryffindor Table, watch me progress along to the doors, and mentally beg forgiveness of Scorpius for the big mouths of my family.

* * *

After Rose leaves the Great Hall, tugging Potter along ferociously behind her, I feel the collective movement of about seven pairs of eyes towards me.

The feeling is not comfortable, and I'm used to attention.

Rose and Potter don't return to breakfast, and since my first lesson is Care of Magical Creatures, I leave alone.

I'm not on my own for long though.

I've barely set foot on the lawn when there is a distinctive cough from behind me.

On turning round I discover that the cough belongs to Louis Weasley.

"Morning Malfoy" he greets, falling into step with me.

"Hello Weasley, do you not have lessons this morning?" I reply, remembering to keep civil tongue in my head, since this is my girlfriend's cousin I'm talking to.

"I've got a free period" Weasley answers simply, "Though I'd still be here, even if I did have a lesson"

I don't need to replay my conversation with Rose's other protective male kin, the mere thought of Potter plunging his fist into my face is enough for me to realise that being smart is not the best of ideas.

"You don't mind being a tiny bit late for your first lesson, do you?" Weasley adds softly.

Do I have any other choice?

Simple Answer; No.

I shake my head and we both slow our walking pace.

A few seconds of silence follows before Weasley announces, "Rose is a beautiful girl"

I'm already a paid up member of the fan club, so I'm not entirely sure why he's telling me this.

There is another lull in 'conversation.'

Then, in the quietest tone I've ever heard in my life, Weasley puts his hand on my shoulder and says, "I won't see her hurt"

As quietly as he appeared, he disappears.

And I am left severely spooked.

Weasley and Potter have, er, subtle differences in their technique.

Potter's is admittedly more my style, but Weasley's in undoubtedly more effective, to the point that I can still feel his hand on my shoulder when I sidle into Care of Magical Creatures a few minutes later.

At the first chance I get I hiss at Lassiter, "You might have told me about Louis Weasley"

Lassiter does not smile back, as I would expect.

Instead, we both instinctively look over our right shoulders.

I am more than a little bit unnerved to seen the slight outline of a blonde haired boy set against the backdrop of the castle.

Lassiter and I shiver simultaneously.

* * *

I don't like sitting in so many classes with Al when Scorpius is only a few desks behind me, looking lonely.

It brings me back to the conversation that we had about the differences between family and cronies and real friends.

Whilst I've still got Al, and Freddie, and Roxanne, and Lily (you get the picture surely?) Malfoy's been left without Mariah, which is going to make his father _really _mad.

And although he makes out like he doesn't care, I know exactly why he turns to the bottle.

So, seeing him sitting there without Mariah in Potions just makes me want to rush across the dungeons and fling my arms around his neck in the biggest hug he's ever been given.

I wouldn't dare though, especially in front of Lorento.

It doesn't stop me from turning around every so often and flashing him smiles.

Covertly, of course.

Since, other than my family, nobody knows still.

Oh, and Mariah.

Not doing a fantastic job of keeping this a secret, are we?

And no doubt that now everybody's favourite loudmouth, Lily Luna Potter, has gotten hold of this little bit of information, the entire school will know by sunset.

What I hate more than having to act entirely indifferently towards Scorpius is that Al is being so flaming smug about the whole situation.

I swear, if he crows, "I knew it" at me one more time then I don't know what I'll do with him.

According to Mr Potter, he's always sensed some type of 'connection' between Scorpius and I.

The first time that he told me this I snorted so loudly that I was supremely glad that we were in private.

I want to ask him why he knocked Malfoy out if he knew all about this so called _connection, _but I know my cousin; he'll just tell me that he was trying to knock some sense into Malfoy.

Which will lead him to the conclusion that he's the one who got Scorpius and I together.

And that, I just couldn't bear.

Because Al is far from the reason that Scorpius and I got together.

We're similar people, who provoke thought (or anger, it really does depend) in each other on a regular basis.

But, then again, whoever said that boys think rationally?

Especially boys with Weasley blood in their veins?

* * *

"Can I have a hug please?" A plaintive voice asks from just inside the entrance to the sitting room.

"Not looking like that you can't" I reply, surveying her.

Rose is on the verge of tears, and for good reason too.

She is absolutely soaked, from head to toe.

Her curls hang limply, her fringe plastered against her forehead.

A little puddle of water is slowly developing on the floor beneath her.

I can't help but laugh.

Which is not such a good idea.

"I could kill you right now Scorpius Malfoy" she mutters darkly, "Why weren't you in Herbology?"

In reply, I gesture at the piles of textbooks, reams of parchment and numerous bottles of ink that surround me.

She flashes me a typical Rose Weasley smug smile and quips, "I'm finished. I did it all in my free period earlier"

"Can I remind you that not skipping Herbology has resulted in you looking like a drowned rat, whilst I'm cosy and dry, albeit with three tonnes of work?"

Damn. I do not like that glint in her eye.

Before I can plead for forgiveness, Rose flicks her wand, demonstrating a perfect management of non-verbal incantations, and a stream of pure water is blasted at me, a jet so strong that it knocks me into a flying position on the sofa.

"Aguamenti charm" Rose laughs, "Classic!"

Now I've missed a lesson and I'm drenched too.

So much for time management.

"Can I get that hug now please?" Rose demands, splashing through the small stream that has developed on our sitting room floor.

I am now wetter than her, so I pull her onto my lap, where she fidgets irritatingly.

"You're really wet" she notes, squirming unnecessarily.

"And whose fault would that be?" I reply, gripping her waist tightly, and breathing in the nutmeg smell that has survived her makeshift shower.

"Grandma Molly would kill me if she could see us now" Rose says, her breath tickling my throat, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

"You're sitting on the lap of the son of a Death Eater" I bite back, "I can't think of too many members of your family who'd be overjoyed"

Rose shakes her head softly and continues, "She'd kill me because we're sitting round in soaking wet clothes; she'd be positive that we'd catch a cold"

But I can see her add mentally, "And I'm sitting on the lap of a son of a Death Eater"

* * *

"Would this satisfy your Grandma Molly?" Scorpius asks, after twenty minutes of towelling, changing clothes, and evaporating the rivers of water flowing through the sitting room.

I nod, and tie my hair back into a ponytail.

"I still don't understand why we couldn't dry off magically" Scorpius moans, because his hair is still a bit damp.

"Because" I purr, "It's much more fun this way"

Surprisingly, Scorpius doesn't seem to be in the mood to play.

"What is wrong with you?" I demand, blowing a jet of warm air out of the tip off my wand at his hair, so that he can stop fiddling with it.

"Nothing" he murmurs.

He seems to have forgotten that I'm a big sister.

Anytime Hugo replies 'Nothing' when I ask what's wrong, it means that something is definitely wrong.

And, being a big sister, I'm a master at extracting this information.

"Oh, alright then" I reply, flicking through one of the newly dried textbooks on the coffee table, the crinkled pages rustling noisily beneath my fingers.

Scorpius sighs, a long sigh, and starts, "I don't want to seem pessimistic, but I can't see us working when our families hate each other like they do"

Hah! I knew indifference would work, it always does.

Not that I like what I'm being told.

"Things might be difficult in the beginning, I admit, but if my dad can get over it, anyone can" I reply, flattening his fluffy blonde hair.

Another sigh, then, "I suppose"

He doesn't sound convinced.

Truth be told, I wasn't exactly convincing.

I don't know what I'm meant to say to him.

I can't lie to him and be like, "It'll all be fine" because with our fathers, I can't guarantee that.

Then again, he's being disheartened enough for the both of us, so I just keep my mouth shut.

Now that our rota is all set up with the prefects, Malfoy and I only have to patrol corridors on Saturday nights.

His Quidditch practice is on Mondays, mine is on Wednesdays.

Today being Thursday, we get to cuddle up in front of the fire in our pyjamas, and discuss the type of things that couples discuss; the trouble with family, the best way to hide a relationship from an entire school of people, and how very nice my new cherry lipgloss tastes.

I realise that I've missed a lot over the past six years.

* * *

"That is not a secret" I retaliate, finally having gotten into Rose's game.

Although why anyone would let everybody discover their five greatest secrets is completely beyond me.

"Everybody knows that" I continue, raising an eyebrow at Rose.

"What do you mean?" she demands, pulling her hair down from its ponytail and tossing it about angrily.

"Rose!" I exclaim, "You might as well have 'Pure as the Driven Snow' tattooed across your forehead"

She pouts heavily, reapplying another layer of that cherry lipgloss, which we both love to pieces.

Finally, she gives up and sighs, "Fine, I'll think of another secret to humiliate myself with"

I won't remind her that she was the one who suggested we play, for fear of her wand.

After a few minutes of quiet contemplation, she announces, "Okay, I've got another one. I failed my Apparition test three times before I passed."

It takes a lot of willpower on my part not to laugh.

"It was so unfair!" she exclaims, not having caught on that I'm almost in hysterics, "All three times I left behind the little toe on my right foot. Not nice"

My mouth has disappeared into a tight line in an effort not to laugh at Rose.

Of course, I'm only human, and whilst she is lamenting the injustice, I start to laugh.

Which, considering that she knows my five biggest secrets, is not a particularly good idea.

"I'm sorry" she says, poking my chest, "You're laughing at me for failing an Apparition test when you're still scared of spiders? I don't get that"

Which is a low blow, the sort of thing which _I'm _meant to say.

"Hey!" I exclaim, "Spiders are unnatural creatures! Who needs eight eyes and eight legs?"

Rose doesn't reply, but settles herself in my arms, evidently having decided to behave herself.

I can hear her breathing deeply, and I'm about to remind her that sleeping on the sofa is not beneficial to growth when she says, "Did I ever tell you about the time that dad and Harry almost got eaten by a bunch of giant spiders? Loads of them there were, according to the stories, flesh eating and everything"

The look on my face sets her off into peals of uncontrollable laughter.

This is stop by simply hitting her with a pillow.

Which of course leads to an all out pillow war.


	19. Of Birthdays and Cousins

**A/N: Oh. Dear. Me. I believe I owe an apology for not updating in over a month. In my defence, I'm back at school, doing my a-levels doing a gazillion extra curricular activities AND this chapter is pretty much 7,500 words. That's lots of words. So, please enjoy. Don't hate me too much for me having put up so much rubbish after such a long time. Aargh, I feel so awful, I blame school.**

**Disclaimer: By Chapter 19 you can pretty much guess what I'm going to say, can't you?**

"Rose, you're working!" Albus whines, tapping me irritatingly on the shoulder.

My cousin, the genius.

"I've just got to put some citations on this essay" I reply, turning to the index of my History of Magic textbook.

Okay, so I lied to Scorpius.

I hadn't entirely finished all my homework.

I literally just have to finish the citations, that's all.

"Rose, it's your birthday!" Lily explodes, taking it upon herself to join in our conversation, "You can't work on your birthday"

Oh yeah, happy birthday to me.

"The world doesn't stop turning just because it's my birthday, Lily"

She's only saying that because her birthday is during the summer, and heaven forbid that Lily Potter should do work outside of designated school hours.

"Happy Birthday!" Freddie and Roxanne greet in chorus as they sidle up to the breakfast table together.

I get a kiss on the cheek off Freddie, and Roxanne throws a package at me.

"Yeah, yeah, eighteen today, yay Rose" I say sarcastically, ripping the paper off the package. Inside is the usual Weasley's Wizard Wheezes merchandise.

Fantastic.

What exactly am I going to use it for?

"Festivities over" I snap, and my family members avert their eyes.

Yes, I have a short fuse this morning.

It's because I'm not the biggest fan of birthdays.

At least, not my own.

Okay, so last year wasn't so bad, what with my coming of age and all, and getting the watch and generally feeling special, but now my birthday just means that I'm getting old.

"You're such a spoilsport" Lily mutters, which only serves to increase my irritation.

The next person to wish me a good birthday is so going to get it.

"Many Happy Returns" a squeaky voice heralds.

Oh dear Merlin, not Molly, I don't want to have to kill Molly because then people are going to assume that it's got to do with Malfoy, and it doesn't, and I don't want to go there right here and right now.

So, as much as it pains me to do it, I swallow the remark I want to make, (Leave me the hell alone before I do something everyone regrets) and curl my mouth into a reluctant smile (or grimace, take your pick) and receive Molly's good natured hug without physically shuddering.

"I really am very sorry Rose" she whispers sincerely into my ear, and against my will I pat her (gingerly, I admit) on the back, but give no reply.

Molly gives me a questioning half smile before sliding down next to Louis, who slings a comforting arm around her petite shoulders.

"Time for Defence Against the Dark Arts" I announce with a brightness in my voice that is not mirrored in my soul.

I can tell that today is not going to go well.

* * *

"Mr Malfoy, could you stay behind a moment please?" Longbottom asks, giving Weasley time to flee from my presence. I curse myself inwardly for skipping class yesterday, since I was going to use this opportunity to catch Rose, seeing as how she had already left this morning when I woke up, and literally shot from Defence Against the Dark Arts without saying a word to me. I try not to sigh too heavily, and rub away some residual dirt that somehow got trapped beneath my glove during our work today, and that seems to have made itself right at home on my left index finger.

"Did you enjoy our work on the Man- Eating Lilies today, Mr Malfoy?" Longbottom asks easily, devotedly pruning a Flutterby Bush in the corner of the Greenhouse that serves as his office. I nod slowly, annoyed at the waste of my break, but also realising that I'm nobody special to Longbottom; he treats all students this way.

"Rather like a certain Lily I know actually" Longbottom chortles, shaking his head, and turning to me, "Yes, so, Mr Malfoy, I notice that you missed my lesson yesterday. Was there any particular reason for that?"

It is at this point that I realise it is a major disadvantage for me that Longbottom is married to the School Nurse.

"Oh, er, eh, well, you see sir" I burble, as Longbottom smiles benevolently at me. "The thing is-" I continue aimlessly, hoping that some divine inspiration will strike.

Needless to say, it doesn't.

"Malfoy, your NEWT's are this year. These are big exams, don't you understand? You can't treat school as indulgently as you used to before"

This has got to be the seventh or eighth time I've had this speech in three weeks. It's not that I don't care about my NEWT's, it's more like I'm an independent learner.

I'm formulating a counter-argument to that effect when Longbottom cuts in, "All I'm asking is that you don't drag Rose down with you. She has too much potential to be wasted"

What?

Who is Merlin's celebrated name told Longbottom that there was something going on between Rose and I?

At the look on my face Longbottom raises an eyebrow. "Do I look blind Mr Malfoy? I was your age not so long ago"

I am totally astounded by the fact that a dozen or so people are no privy to our so-called secret.

I turn my back on Longbottom, determined to get some productive use out of this break, when he calls me back, "Mr Malfoy, one last thing"

When I turn back to him he is holding a wrapped parcel in his arms. "My godson asked me to give this to Rose, but I assume that you'll be seeing her before I do" He hands me the parcel, which weighs about as much as I do, ad gives me a friendly nod of the head.

"Sir, do you mind if I, er-" I ask, from behind the parcel, which is clearly a book of some description.

"Let me" Longbottom offers, swishing his wand through the air, whilst muttering "Wingardium Leviosa"

I feel some sensation coming back to my lower arms, and I wriggle my fingers to make sure I can still feel them. "Thank you sir, I can take it from here" I say, pointing my own wand at the parcel, and then out of the door of the Greenhouse, where I follow.

As it floats along, I peel back the gift tag on the paper and glance at it, "All my love, James"

I wonder if Potter is in the habit of sending Rose massive tomes on a regular basis, and if so, will I be expected to carry them all? Although, I am rather glad of this little gift of Potter's, because it means that at some point Rose is going to have to stop and speak to me.

Call me paranoid, but it seems the tiniest bit like she's been trying to avoid me, or hide something from me, all day. I try my best to understand women, but a book the size of the one floating alone next to me wouldn't even scratch the surface of Rose Weasley.

It's all quite depressing.

* * *

"Please, dearest cousin, explain to me why we are running away from your boyfriend" Albus demands, as we are, admittedly, ducking into a broom closet.

"Not hiding" I wheeze, because it is a bit of a tight squeeze among the bottles of cleaning fluid and brooms and mops.

The corner of Al's mouth curls into a smirk, as he closes the door behind him, leaving about a cubic millimetre of space in the entire closet.

This is smaller than the broom cupboard that I broke up with Lassiter in.

A lot smaller.

"So, we're spending fifteen minutes in this broom cupboard for what reason exactly?"

You know what? Next time I choose to avoid anybody I am going to do it all by myself. Accomplices are just far too stressful.

"Talk to me, Rosie" Al wheedles, which snaps my last nerve.

"Albus Severus Potter, I said I wasn't hiding, I'm not hiding, and the next time that you call me Rosie I will break a limb, whether magically or physically, I haven't decided quite yet" The threat would probably have been more effective had I been able to use my wand, but unfortunately for me I'm unable to whip it from my robes without demolishing half of the closet.

"Alright then" Al murmurs, "Now that we've established that"

An entirely uncomfortable silence falls, which gives me a minute to recollect my thoughts.

So, why exactly am I hiding from Malfoy in a broom closet, I hear you ask?

That is a very difficult question to answer.

It's sort of more of an instinct thing more than anything. Like, I think he'll get mad when he finds out that it's my birthday because I never told him.

And I never told him because I honestly hate my birthday more than anything else in the world.

Arrgh, this is useless.

I'm stuck in a broom closet with Al because I'm avoiding the boyfriend that no-one's supposed to know about, because I've just turned eighteen. What's wrong with me?

I'm so abnormal, it's not even funny.

"Let's get out of here" I finally concede, even though I don't have a clue what I'm going to do once I'm freed from this broom closet.

"Thank Circe" Al announces, stumbling out of our little prison. Stumbling, even though my foot is actually connected to his ankle. Which leads to us both falling untidily to the marble floor.

As we're untangling ourselves, Al laughing, me grumbling, there is a distinctive coughing sound.

I look up and am more than a little disconcerted to see the shining blond hair of Malfoy.

* * *

What is it with Potter boys and Rose? There's something vaguely incestuous about the relationship.

"Er, Scorpius, hey" Rose says, quickly picking herself up and dusting herself down, "Al, weren't you going to walk me to History of Magic?"

Fantastic. So there goes that chance to speak to her about whatever the heck is going on.

So, I try something unusual for me and shoot a pleading look at Potter, whilst Rose is 'oohing' and 'aahing' at the parcel I have indicated belongs to her.

The non-verbal conversation that we have behind her back, using facial expressions, runs as follows:

"Potter, please?"

"Give me one good reason why Malfoy"

"I really want to speak to Rose"

"Maybe she's avoiding you for a reason"

"And I want to find out why"

"What's in it for me?"

"So, you'll do it?"

It is this point at which our 'conversation' is cut short, as Rose has unwrapped her gift and is now chuckling.

"Look at this, you two" she demands, so I finally get to see what I've carried from the Greenhouses.

The massive volume is still floating in midair, but is now devoid of wrapping paper. Bound in black leather and embossed with shiny silver writing, it seems to be entitled, "So, you're studying for your NEWT's?"

"Wow, this is so cool!" Rose squeals, flipping through the pages.

I give another tiny cough, barely loud enough to be heard, but it spurs Potter into action.

"Uh, yeah, Rose?" he says, prodding his cousin to distract her attention from her new book to him, "I just remembered, Louis has a free period now, like me, and I promised that I'd…uh, go down to see Hagrid with him"

With this, Potter turns on his heel and practically sprints off, leaving Rose standing next to me with a look of utter anger on her face.

"Al" Rose yells, "AL! Get back here right now"

Nice to see that she values my company above that of her cousin.

"I guess it's just you and me then" I say, as Rose's cries echo off the floors and walls to no avail. Rose is giving off the slightest air of someone resigned to the worst of fates.

Once again, this is isn't making me feel so fantastic.

So, with at least half a foot of space between us, we start a long boring walk to a long, boring class.

* * *

"Have you been avoiding me today?" Scorpius blurts, as we trudge along to a fate almost (notice the almost people) as bad as Potions; Double History of Magic.

Of course, the question prevents me from lamenting Double Binns and forces me to focus on the matter at hand.

What is the matter at hand?

My paranoia?

Not trusting my boyfriend?

My utter hatred of the celebration of the date of my birth?

My complete obsession with question marks?

Stop, Rose Weasley, just stop.

This is _not _focus.

"Define avoiding" I ask shrewdly, as I attempt to shove my birthday present from James into my school bag, and fail miserably. It is a pretty massive book in all fairness.

"The way you've spent the last three minutes looking at that damned book rather than at me?" Scorpius spits bitterly, fingering his wand in his robe pocket.

"Are you planning on using that on me?" I ask archly, proud of my amazing talent of dodging his questions.

A flash of pure annoyance crosses Scorpius' grey eyes, sending a shiver (and not the good kind) down my spine. I'm going to take that as a 'yes' then.

"Okay then Malfoy. Yes, I have been avoiding you today"

No, you mistake me for a person with actual guts. We don't have the time to talk trough this issue, because I make this statement as I push open the door to spend two hours writing copious amounts of notes on Giant-Wizard relations in the seventeenth century in front of a ghost that taught my mother, father, all my uncles and aunts, and my maternal grandparents.

Contrary to popular opinion there is actually a use for History of Magic.

It is very good for hiding in plain sight.

* * *

Two hours of Binns might have been worth it.

Just might have been worth it is my girlfriend hadn't told me as we walked through the door of the classroom that she's spent almost half a day running away from me.

"Giants are notoriously wary of magic, since they cannot perform it themselves, so naturally relations with wizards have been strained since the beginning of their interaction"

Binns' voice drones on, and on, and on, and as the seven other students around me exhaust parchment and bottles of ink I sink deeper into the depths of despair.

History of Magic is, of course, the one lesson in which it is guaranteed that you can mope about the state of your life without interruption because Binns doesn't stop his monologue for the entire two hours.

I would try and get Rose's attention, so that we can sort this thing, whatever is going on between us, out, even in the middle of class, but her nose is still an inch from her sixth foot of parchment, and her quill hasn't stopped moving for the past fifteen minutes, so there is absolutely no chance that I'm going to speak to her before lunch.

At which point I'm sure she'll find another reason, or cousin, to make a useless excuse, to not look at me for the rest of the day.

My empty parchment has been sliding further and further across my desk over the past forty-five minutes, and it chooses this very moment to slip to the floor, floating more gently than it has any right to, before landing with a soft 'slapping' noise on the floor. This, of course, is no deterrent to Binns, the dropping of a piece of parchment is nothing to a man who missed his own death, but it does grab the attention of several people in the room, who cast me annoyed looks because I've (Or rather, my parchment has) interrupted their ramblings on the Wizarding Legislation of 1649 in which Phillius Phindell outlawed all creatures of giant origin to the outskirts of the British Isles, 'for the safety of Wizard and Mugglekind alike.'

It doesn't, however, attract the attention of the one person whose attention I want; Rose is about as responsive as Binns, in that her quill doesn't sop moving for a millisecond.

I don't find it funny that Weasley and I are having our 'trouble in paradise' almost as quickly as she and Lassiter did, but can you appreciate the irony in my stead please?

* * *

"Dean, I will love you forever if I can do this" I gush, as I sit, mug of tea on my lap, in Dean Thomas' office. Not only have I managed to avoid the majority of humanity for my lunch break but Dean has also just talked me into telling my parents (by Floo) that I am currently in a relationship with Scorpius Malfoy, Slytherin Head Boy and spawn of Draco Malfoy.

Once I've finished my tea, of course.

"Well, Rose, I honestly think that everybody knows already, except perhaps your parents and Malfoy's, so if you want to sort through these so called issues that you have" At this point Dean smirks, like he knows that this is only the beginning of perilous relationships, and in thirty years time I'll be arguing as frequently as my mom and dad. "Then I think that it would be beneficial to your relationship. If you are serious about this relationship?" Dean finishes delicately, finally sitting down, since he's been doing that annoying pacing thing for a while now. "Are you serious about this relationship, Rosie?" he repeats questioningly, disregarding my obvious annoyance at hi use of 'Rosie.'

What am I supposed to answer to that?

Honestly, I don't know.

I'm eighteen years old, I don't think in terms of seriousness yet, I think in terms of, will it last 'til the end of the school year, rather than the rest of my life.

"Dean, I don't know" I reply slowly, "Me and Malfoy, we have our differences, nobody's disputing that, but he puts a smile on my face, and when I go back upstairs after dinner and he's there, it sort of feels like I'm at home. It's comfortable. How am I to know whether that's enough?"

Dean looks me over thoughtfully, and then smiles sadly, "Young love! How I wish I could return to those years when Parvati put a smile on my face"

I roll my eyes and laugh internally. I'm sitting here discussing my love life with my Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. How ludicrous is that?

"Right then" Dean says, with absolute resolution, "Then I suppose if Mr Malfoy makes you smile so broadly then it is about time that you come clean"

I'm just glad that I'm sitting in the office of a teacher trained in Defensive Spells because if my father is going to blow up at me, then I want Dean to be here with me.

"Okay then" I say breezily, as Dean grabs the Floo Powder from the holder next to his grate. "Let's do this thing"

The powder is tossed into the fire as Dean sticks his head into the grate and says articulately, "Ronald Weasley, Twelve Fairview Cottage"

Can everybody please wish me the best of luck?

* * *

"What are you doing?" I ask, dumbstruck, since Rose has just breezed into Potions, likes she hasn't been ignoring me all day, planted a kiss on my mouth, in plain view of the entire dungeon, and slipped into the seat next to me, leaving her poor cousin looking as bewildered as everybody else feels.

"I told them!" Rose sing-songs, unpacking 'Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests: Potion making- Volume Two' from her school bag and placing it on the table. "I Flooed my parents and I said straight to my dad's face, 'Dad, stop treating me like a child, I'm seeing Scorpius Malfoy, and nothing you do can change that' The look on his face was priceless" she continues, like she hasn't thrown the whole class into a chaos that even Lorento cannot control. He must have docked about one hundred points from a collection of students before any calm is restored to the room, and even then students are exchanging intrigued glances with one another.

Rose is clearly oblivious to all the commotion she's caused.

"Miss Weasley?" Lorento's voice is dangerously low and even so it can't be good news for Rose, "How many points are docked for 'Inappropriate Public Displays of Affection'?"

A clearly rhetorical question.

But Rose answers anyway.

"Fifteen, sir. And the points are docked from both parties, despite the initiator of said displays. So, I think that'll be fifteen points from Gryffindor and fifteen points from Slytherin, don't you?" Even Lorento isn't prepared for this, this blatant cheeriness.

"Er, yes, I believe that's right" he replies uncertainly, flicking a textbook on his desk open, and then running his finger along a page. "Miss Weasley, are you feeling giddy at all? Or perhaps, suffocated by happiness?"

Excuse me, but it sounds like my Head of House is insinuating that my girlfriend is taking excessive amounts of Amortentia. Rose is clearly following the same thought train because she replies sweetly, "Professor, Scorpius doesn't need a potion to make me feel the way I do. Believe me, this is one hundred percent non-magical"

At this, there is another outburst from the rest of the class. I turn, to see Mariah staring back at us, her green eyes narrowed to the thinnest of slits and her mouth clamped into an unforgiving smile.

I think it's safe to say, Rose and I have officially gone public.

* * *

"You did it, you did it, YOU DID IT" Lily squeals, bouncing up and down in her seat, thus causing the table to bounce along with her. "Merlin, Rose, I'm so proud of you! You and Scorpius Malfoy! Oh, it's just too beautiful for words. You will now rule as _the _undisputed beautiful couple of Hogwarts. No competition"

Seeing as how I'm on a roll right now, I figure that I can push my luck.

"So, you and Logan won't be challenging us for the crown anytime soon?"

Lily is so caught up in remonstrations of happiness that her answer flies out of her mouth without her even realising it, "Me and Duncan? No, of course not. I couldn't stab my own cousin in the back like that. Anyway, we're just fooling around"

Even though my life once again doesn't suck, I am still Head Girl and I still have morals, but before I can reprimand Lily for this frankly whore-like remark, her brother has beaten me to it.

"I am going to mash him to a pulp" Al says quietly, "'Fooling around' with my little sister. Who does he think he is?"

Okay, Rose, diplomacy, diffuse this situation before it blows out of proportion and Al gets expelled.

Hang on.

What does she mean by 'fooling around'?

Just how foolish has she got?

Merlin, this can't get blown out of proportion, it's outside the limits of _proportion._

"No, Albus" I say reasonably, "I'm older, and I've got far more authority than you do. If anyone is going to be doing any mashing, it's going to be me"

Lily, for once in her life, has got her mouth shut and is staring resolutely at the golden plate in front of her. "Am I in trouble?" she asks meekly, her head still bowed.

"Oh, you bet you are" Al growls, as Scorpius' shadow falls over the Gryffindor table.

There is no shocked silence; in the five hours between Potions and dinner, the entire school, from the shyest first year Hufflepuff to the Mighty McGonagall herself, has found out about 'Rose-and-Scorpius'. A few people look around, interested, but other than that it's business as usual.

"Have you heard what this little minx has been up to?" I ask Scorpius, aggravated, and in need of a little boyfriendly sympathy.

"As a matter of fact" Scorpius replies, "I have indeed. Mini-Potter, you should be a little more discreet where you conduct your love affairs"

"Love affairs?" Al screeches, clearly less than willing to face up to his little sister as the sexual predator she has clearly become. Unbeknownst to Al, but noticed by me, Logan slips from the table, with a questioning glance at Lily, which she replies to with a 'Get out of her and you might live to tell the tale' type look. Whilst there is ranting about letters home to parents and brothers and Teddy, Scorpius stands patiently next to my seat. It is only when Al stops to breathe for a few seconds that Scorpius manages to grab my attention.

"We're wanted in McGonagall's office, Rose" he says quietly, so that the entire House table doesn't hear.

Ooh, this intrigues me. I wonder is we're seeing her in our official capacity as Head Boy and Head Girl, or whether it's because of our newly official status as 'couple.'

Either way, I can't wait to find out.

Today has been all shades of exciting; it almost makes me forget that it's my birthday.

Of course, something has to happen to bring me back down to Earth sometime soon, doesn't it?

* * *

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, what in Merlin's name do you think you're playing at?"

It is not McGonagall's voice that greets Rose and I once we've ascended the staircase into McGonagall's domain; it is that of my father.

Uh-oh. This means serious trouble.

"Now, now Draco" McGonagall's tone is not unlike the voice she uses to eliminate the unfounded fears of the first years when they first arrive at the castle. "Give Rose and Scorpius a chance to breathe please. It's only fair on them"

"Fair on them!" Another voice explodes from the opposite corner of the room, "They're kids! Rose doesn't know what's best for her, and she clearly doesn't know what's bad for her"

So, when Rose told me in Potions that she'd spoken to her father, she neglected to mention that he wasn't too forgiving when it comes to judging the relationship.

There is a collective sigh from McGonagall's desk, where sit my mother and a woman I presume to be Hermione Weasley. They are both tutting impatiently, not that it's having any effect on either my father or Rose's, and it takes McGonagall to clear her throat loudly before she has their attention.

"Ronald, Draco, sit down" she commands, and the two men sulkily Conjure chairs from thin air for themselves, "Rose, Scorpius, if you'd like to join us, please?" she adds, more softly, and I find myself separated from Rose by our parents.

"Thank you for all agreeing to be here today" McGonagall starts, "I know that everyone has other things that they'd rather be doing, but this is going to be sorted out at some point"

Picture the scene; four parents, one headmistress, two adolescents perfectly capable of making their own decisions, and a dozen or more portraits who are all determined to make their opinion known.

Not a bundle of laughs, I can tell you that much.

"I would like to hear exactly what problems are being experienced, so we can work through them in an adult fashion"

"She's a Weasley" my father spits, and I just wish that the ground would swallow me up. He's a bigoted, old-fashioned prat, with no vision of romance, and much as my father means to me, I can see every one of his many fatal flaws at this precise moment in time.

Not to worry though; I'm sure Rose is cataloguing her father's flaws as well that this present moment.

* * *

"He's a Malfoy" my dad growls, almost in unison with Mr. Malfoy.

Of all the things in the world, 'He's a Malfoy' is the most impressive argument my father can come up with. The embarrassment is paramount.

It seems that our mothers feel the same way too.

"Ronald, shut up" my mom snaps, tapping the heel of her shoe against the office floor, a sure-fire sign that she's angry, "Or I will make you"

Somehow, I don't think she's got the 'Silencio' charm in mind.

She smiles apologetically at Mrs. Malfoy, who returns the smile woodenly and says, "Draco, you're embarrassing the name of Malfoy, darling. Apologise at once"

I think I've just discovered what Mariah is going to grow up into.

No, Rose, stop insulting Scorpius' mother, even if it is only mental, stop it.

There is a ceasefire for a few minutes from the men, who look around moodily and stubbornly refuse to catch each other's eye.

"Can we try again like the supposed adults we are?" McGonagall asks, the slightest hint of patronisation in her voice. "Other than family name, what other problems do you have with one another's offspring?"

There is a pregnant pause, as our fathers realise that there is nothing actually wrong with either Scorpius and I.

"Look, all I'm saying is that she can't see him" my dad finally replies, displaying a level of maturity that makes a seven year old look like Nicolas Flamel.

"This has nothing to do with any of you" Scorpius cuts in bravely. It takes a little while for my brain to register that this beautiful, athletic, intelligent young man is provoking my dad's wrath just to be with me. It's a thought that warms me right to the centre, before I realise that it'd probably be polite of me to return the gesture for Scorpius.

"Yes" I say, trying to look everywhere but Draco Malfoy's unblinking steely eyes, "This doesn't affect you at all. All you've got to do is accept it"

And that is my contribution to the discussion over, before I can contemplate running screaming from the room.

* * *

"That was fun" I say, in the most pathetic of attempts to stimulate some conversation with Rose. Her father was, admittedly, a bit of a fascist in there.

"I'd take Lord Voldemort over him any day" Rose mutters, and there is no prize for guessing who she's referring to.

I put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

Merlin, I'd forgotten how good that feels.

She snuggles into me, and puts her arm around my waist. Not only have we gotten over this whole, whatever went on today, but I'm currently walking down a school corridor with my arm around her and there's no problem.

Well, except our parents.

"What in the world possessed you to tell your dad?" I ask, intrigued to see why we're suddenly all okay and friendly again.

She sighs, and leans her head on my shoulder; she may be quite tall, and I may be shorter than Lassiter, but she can still lean her head on my shoulder, which I'm sure is a basic requirement for a relationship.

"Oh, I don't know. I was talking to Dean. I suppose he suggested it. It seemed a pretty good idea at the time"

"I forgot you're on first name terms with half the Professors" I joke, having finally figured out that this Dean (yes, for a second there I was getting jealous) she's talking about is Professor Thomas. "What's Thomas got to do with it?"

I honestly don't see why, if she had a problem with me, she went to out Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, rather than sorting it out with me. It's all a bit thirteen year old girl, even if they do usually run to their girlfriends, as opposed to their teachers.

"Well, I know Dean from way back. Since before I was born. I suppose he's a bit of a substitute for Teddy or Victoire" Rose replies, which hurts a bit more than it should do, because Rose is still allowed to speak to her family; I'm not running a totalitarian scheme here.

As we approach the Portrait Hole to enter our Common Room, Rose turns to me, looking at me with her hazel-gold eyes and says, with complete sincerity. "Today hasn't been good, and it's basically my fault. For which I'm really sorry. I've got issues, which you're just going to have to learn to live with, but I promise you right now that I'll try my best to get you to work through them with me, rather than acting completely selfishly. Is that okay with you?"

I don't think I've ever heard anything more okay in my life.

* * *

"Lily" I sigh wearily. The stress of today resounding in my voice, "How did you get in here and what do you want?"

Lily rises from the sofa, and taps her nose annoyingly, "Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies, cousin dearest"

Scorpius looks like he's on the verge of throwing Lily bodily from the room, but at the last second he pulls himself together and smiles tightly, "Well, would you mind leaving now please?" he asks civilly, which earns him a condescending look from my cousin.

"I'd mind very much, Malfoy" she replies, hand on hip. She vaguely reminds me of myself, with fiery hair and self confident pose.

But Lily is not me, no matter how similar we look, and thus she has no right to be in here, obstructing the path to my bed, where sleep will carry away my wretched birthday.

"You're in great demand tonight, Head Girl" she says, with a tiny hint of the cryptic, gazing pointedly over my shoulder towards the portrait hole.

"Yes, well, my demands override that of the rest of the school" Scorpius puts in, "I am Head Boy, after all"

Lily throws a scandalised look at the pair of us. She has such a filthy mind. She can find sexual innuendo in literally any phrase.

"Seriously, Lils" I say, my tone softened, to see whether being gentle will prevail over being desperate., "I'm so tired it's unbelievable. All I want is to go to bed, and get some well deserved rest. So, not to be rude or anti-social, but whoever wants me can wait until tomorrow"

Lily's eyes narrow into a scarily accurate impression of a mad Aunt Ginny, and she sniffs derisively. "If they don't see you tonight it'll be totally pointless"

Giving in is really not in either the Potter or Weasley genes, and whilst Ginny has both, I only have one, (not disregarding the Granger genes, or anything, but they're really more useful for the purposes of homework) so, against my better judgment, I concede.

"I'll be back in fifteen minutes" I promise Scorpius, who glares coolly at Lily.

She looks totally satisfied as she leads the way through the portrait hole, and after we've climbed out of it, and have started walking along the sixth floor corridor I mutter, "This had better not take long"

Lily smiles knowingly, but says nothing and carries on walking.

* * *

After mini-Potter has left, taking Rose with her, I wait out the stipulated fifteen minutes with supreme self control. As soon as they've passed, I become restless. When Rose has been gone half an hour, I don't start to worry, I just become irritated, even though it's hardly likely that she's taking this long through any fault of her own. At half nine, when she's been gone an entire hour, there is still no worry, just supreme annoyance.

So, I use my brain (only one of my natural assets) and figure that the most likely place that mini-Potter has stashed away my girlfriend is her own Common Room.

Five minutes later I make up my mind to go and extract Rose from whatever torturous fate she is being put through.

Five minutes after that I am standing infuriated outside the Gryffindor Tower, where the stupid portrait of theirs is refusing to grant me access.

"I'm the Head Boy, for the love of all that is magical!"

Her lips purse, making her look even less attractive than she had done in the first place.

"If you don't have the password, you don't get in" she repeats.

She's said that five times to me now.

Surely, I don't need a password? I'm supposed to have complete authority in this school.

"Well, can you just tell me if my girlfriend's in there please?" I ask brusquely, and narrowed eyes are added to pursed lips.

"Yes, Lily brought Miss Weasley in a while ago. She hasn't left since. And now you come to mention this so-called relationship-"

I raise a hand, at which the Fat Lady stops abruptly. "Did I ask your opinion?" I demand, turning my back on her, so I can go to McGonagall to ask whether she'll remind me what the damned password to the Gryffindor Tower is.

There is no need however, because Lucy Weasley slips from behind the portrait, halting when she sees me.

"Malfoy" she says politely, "I was just going to see the Headmistress, you'll probably want to come with me"

This is one Weasley girl who is an enigma wrapped in a mystery surrounded by a puzzle.

I swear she's completely hormone-less.

"Actually, Weasley" I reply, "I'd just like the password to you Common Room, if you'd be so kind?"

She grins smugly, and directs the password at the Fat Lady, who swings forward sulkily.

When I climb through, I'm confronted by a completely unexpected sight.

* * *

"You'd better have come to save me" I say to Scorpius, who is standing just inside the portrait hole, stunned, with Lucy, who shoots me yet another disapproving look. 'My' birthday party rages on around me, even though I ordered Teddy to break it up a half hour ago.

And yes, you do hear me correctly.

I did say Teddy.

No, not Freddie.

I do mean Teddy.

He has managed to smuggle himself, James, Victoire and Dominique into Gryffindor Tower.

Oh, and did I mention the real live band they've brought with them? Apparently James is seeing (read: screwing) the vocalist. And from what I've heard in the hour or so of my captivity, she's a lovely looking girl, but no singer.

"Uh, may I enquire as to what's going on?" Scorpius demands, as a drunk looking fifth year launches herself at Freddie. (Note to self: find out that girls name and give her a month worth of detentions)

I, for the moment, ignore him, because James has just waltzed by, Butterbeer in hand, and it's the first time I've seen him all night.

"James Sirius Potter" I screech, over the whining of 'Your love is like the Elixir of Life, but someone's stolen my Philosopher's Stone' (Note to self II: Kill their lyricist) "I am going to personally and painfully murder you" The aforementioned cousin seems to be taking no notice of my phenomenal rage (nothing new there then) but is glaring over at the portrait hole, where Lucy inches a few centimetres away from Scorpius, as if worried she'll be hit by the deadly beams emanating from James' eyes.

"Ah, yes" he says, coolly, "I'd forgot I'd have this to deal with"

No, no, no, no, a million times no.

"One hair, James. You hurt one hair on his head and I will not only disown you, but I'll also disembowel you. I am being deadly serious" I raise my own wand, to show the readiness with which I am willing to Disarm him, and James leaves his own wand in his robe pocket.

"What are they all doing here?" Scorpius asks acidly, as James turns his back.

I point gingerly at the banner that someone has levitated into place above the fireplace, and whose Sticking Charm, is rapidly failing. Scorpius' eyes widen as he exclaims, "It's your birthday!"

I vaguely register the changing expression on James' face, as I go to apologise to Scorpius for not telling him about my birthday.

I'm too late.

James' fist is already making contact with the bridge of Scorpius' nose.

* * *

Ouch doesn't cover it.

I'm contemplating this as Potter growls, "You're screwing my cousin, and you don't even know when her birthday is? I knew Malfoy's were low, but I had no idea how low"

I'm literally seeing constellations spin inside my head; Ursa Major just flew past.

A few minutes pass in which words and images are fuzzy; what I hear as "Idiot…crazy…not…together…fault…McGonagall" turns out actually to be, "You arrogant idiot! How crazy exactly are you? I'm not sleeping with him, we just live together. It's hardly our fault, if you want someone to blame, take it up with McGonagall"

At this point, the wall I have been supporting myself on, goes all soft; like somebody has cast a 'Reducto' spell on it, and I feel myself sink to the floor.

My last vaguely coherent thought is "Potter attribute. Definitely a Potter attribute"

And then I feel somebody catch me and everything goes black.

When, three minutes later, I regain consciousness, Rose is leant over me, with a look of abject misery on her face. "Merlin, Scorpius. You scared me. Are you okay? Honestly, I'm going to kill James, I really am" When I raise my head from her lap and spot Potter, he doesn't look like he's fearing for his life; he's having a perfectly amiable conversation with his sister, whilst Logan, I notice, is nowhere to be seen.

"No worries" I wince, feeling my nose gingerly, "It's beginning to become a recurring habit. I'm sure I'll be able to dodge the next one"

Rose fumes quietly in our little corner about the audacity of family. Once she's let off a little steam she says, "Who do they think they are? We're Head Boy and Head Girl" I did realise this a few minutes ago, but I'm not about to incur the wrath of her family again, any time in the near future.

"Cover your ears" she demands, and though this is a bizarre request to say the very least, I do it, and a few seconds later I'm glad I have, because Rose points her wand at her throat and enunciates, "Sonorus"

And then, whilst that awful band are still proclaiming about love potions and apothecaries, or whatever, the following announcement is made to the Gryffindor Tower, "It's the Birthday Girl here. And for those of you who've forgotten; Head Girl. So, every single member of this House should be in the appropriate dormitory in five minutes, otherwise I'll be holding a House detention on the next Hogsmeade date. And for those who I don't have authority over as Head Girl, you better leave, or I'm telling Grandma Molly"

There is a look of fear on the face of every single person in the room; students really don't want to be stuck in detention on a Hogsmeade date and her family really, really don't want to enrage their grandmother.

Within seconds the younger members of the House have already scurried away, and Potter, Lupin and the elder Weasleys are preparing for their trip through the fireplace.

Rose doesn't speak another word to any of the Gryffindors, but helps me to my feet.

"Come on, I might be able to get a few enjoyable hours out of this birthday"

With which, we both climb from behind the Fat Lady and stroll back to our own Common Room, me in copious amounts of pain, and her still fuming.

**A/N (again): So, yes, my apologies again, and I do still appreciate the reviews, I'm just literally too busy to reply sometimes!! So, please do carry on reviewing, if you'd all be so kind**

**xxx**


	20. Of Letters and Rows

**A/N: I refuse to let school dictate my life. So, I will update frequently (I promise!) and it will be good and I will be happy. Now, I've got to find a way to fit in writing, working, school, drama, dance and singing into my life. Shouldn't be a problem.**

**Disclaimer: Too tired to tell you that I don't own this.**

"Morning" Scorpius greets cheerfully, looking particularly delectable in navy blue robes over dark jeans. The joy of Saturdays is that we get to remove the dreary black robes and grey trousers (or, in my case, skirt) of the week, and, obviously, that I don't have to think about work unless I choose to. "Have you been awake long?" he continues, falling onto the sofa beside me and planting a feather light kiss on my mouth.

"No, not really" I reply, snuggling up in his arms and laying my head across his chest. A very toned chest, might I add. There is a companionable silence just long enough for Scorpius and I to fall into the same breathing pattern when there is an abrupt knock at the portrait hole. "Enter" I chirp, having found out that there is actually no need for Scorpius or I to get up; that word from either the Head Boy or Head Girl from inside this room grants the person outside immediate access.

Genius system. Except when you don't know who's outside.

Luckily, it's only Louis.

"Morning Rose, morning Malfoy" he greets, as I pull away from Scorpius. It's not because I'm ashamed or anything, it's just a tiny bit weird to be draped all over your boyfriend when your cousin's in the room.

"Did you want something?" I ask, sounding a tiny bit unpleasant without meaning to. Louis holds out 'The Daily Prophet' and adds "The delivery owl didn't know that you weren't coming down to breakfast, so I thought I'd bring the newspaper up for you"

Oh, that's actually really sweet of him.

"Thanks Louis" I add, rather more softly, "Have you seen Echo this morning?" For the first time in my remembrance Louis looks a little bit awkward, and pulls an envelope out of his robe pocket.

"The handwriting was Teddy's and you know what Lily's like…Freddie did try to stop her-" Louis trails off as he hands me a letter addressed to 'Miss Rose Weasley' that has already been opened.

I smile tightly, whilst Scorpius look impassive. "Thank you Louis" I repeat, and he takes this as his cue to leave. I turn the envelope over, and slide out the letter from Teddy.

Why do I get the feeling that I don't want to read it?

* * *

"What's the damage?" I ask a thunderstruck looking Rose, sweeping her fringe out of her angry eyes for her, because she doesn't seem to be bothered about doing it herself.

There is a moment of utter stillness in the room.

Then, out of nowhere, there is a ripping noise and shreds of parchment litter the floor.

"The basic jist?" she mutters, "Teddy thinks I'm a complete sell out, he's going to hate my guts until the day I die and he wishes every misery on the pair of us"

With this, Rose sinks back down onto the sofa and dissolves into copious amounts of tears, "What exactly have I done which has hurt him so much? Why does he care?"

I see a marathon comforting session coming on, especially since this is family related. Rose is still moaning tearfully as I Conjure yet another box of Kleenex, and I vaguely wonder what's happened to the uptight, closed, hard faced Gryffindor that I've known for the past six years. All these tears are so out of character I conjecture that this is just a doppelganger Rose. But when I return my gaze to the emotional wreck sobbing on the sofa I realise that there's no way that my theory is possible. It's not possible to feign caring that much about what a family member thinks of you.

"Come on Rose" I soothe, plucking a bunch of tissues from the box and passing them to her, "Lupin and Potter, they're just rattled. They've never had to share you before and they see me as a threat. Once they realise that I'm not trying to steal you away from them, they'll come round"

There are sniffing noises from Rose's unmoving form, and she lifts her head out of her arms, "I really don't need this right now. I'm still trying to get over my dad hating me, and the nightmare that was my birthday. I can't cope with Teddy never wanting to speak to me again" Her head collapses again, and I sigh. There is no way that I can have Rose without the deluxe Weasley package, but I sincerely wish that I could.

"Your dad does not hate you" I say firmly, even though I know that _my _dad loathes my very existence at the moment, "And Teddy will speak to you again. I promise"

* * *

"You promise?" I murmur, snatching at the snowy white tissues that Scorpius is wafting in front of my face, "I never imagined that I could make this much of a mess out of my life"

Scorpius' face looks a little hurt, and when I replay my last comment in my head, I understand why. "Sorry" I say, intertwining my fingers with his, and presenting a mournful face.

"S'okay" Scorpius replies, bringing my hand up to his mouth and kissing it, "I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, you could probably do without me acting like a big baby, huh?"

"No" I retaliate, "You have a right to feel injured. What I said wasn't meant to offend, but I can see how it could have"

Scorpius smiles gently, and picks up 'The Daily Prophet' from the coffee table, "Will reading the Letters to the Editor make you feel any better?" he asks, as I rub away the remaining tears off my cheeks.

As Scorpius chuckles away over the idiocy that some wizards actually write to newspapers, I contemplate.

When did I become this emotionally unstable? Whenever I'm around Scorpius and something goes wrong, I find it absolutely impossible to reign in my tears. Then again, Teddy's never said, or written, anything like that to me before. Fragments of his letter still ring in my ears.

"Call yourself a Weasley? You're nothing more than a traitor"

I can practically hear him spit the words, and I can only imagine what was going through his head when he wrote that letter.

"-absolute joke!" Scorpius jolts me from my thoughts, which I am grateful for, because I'd almost worked myself into another frenzy. I nod and smile, used to blending into the background amongst so many other relatives.

Unluckily for me, Scorpius is an only child, and he has no cousins.

"Stop thinking about it" he says sharply, seeing that I'm almost on the verge of tears once more. "Seriously Rose, I will be cruel to be kind"

I have no doubt about that.

"Alright Malfoy, I'm calm, no longer thinking about my judgemental, malicious, cruel, evil-" I collapse into Scorpius' arms again.

* * *

"Ssh, ssh, it's okay Rose" I soothe, once again, "It's all going to turn out alright" Nobody would ever have guessed that the crying girl in my arms is older than me. I stroke her hair, and as the minutes pass her sobbing subsides, and Rose falls silent, so that now she's is only whimpering and, to the best of my knowledge, the tears have stopped falling.

Then, with complete conviction, Rose sits bolt upright and with an utterly even voice she states, "You're right. I'm crying over nothing. I've just got to lead my life, and who gives a damn what Theodore Remus Lupin thinks?"

"That's my girl" I reply, kissing her on the mouth. She slips her arm around my neck and deepens the kiss. There is a fierceness in her eyes that I can't quite place; at any rate, they're not the eyes of a girl who doesn't care what her cousins think.

"Whoa" I say, pulling myself away from Rose, "Slow down Weasley, there's no rush. Honestly, I'm not with you for sex. Really-" I reiterate, at Rose's sarcastic snort, "If I was, we would have done it already. You're not Mariah and you're not any of the stupid one night stands that I've had over the past couple of years. You're my girlfriend, and I want to wait until you're comfortable"

"I am ready" Rose breathes, in what I take to be a sultry way, and I exhale sharply.

"No, you're not" I counter, "You're upset and you're trying to get back at your cousin. And much as I'd love to, I refuse to take advantage of you whilst you're in such a vulnerable state. It'd be completely wrong, and I'd never forgive myself"

There is a look of such desperation in Rose's eyes that my resolve almost buckles.

"But I want to" she adds, pouting in a way that truly reminds me of Mariah, "Really Scorpius, I can't see any reason why not"

"Perhaps because you're so clearly not ready that you're shaking" I say, distancing myself on the sofa from Rose.

"I am not" she replies indignantly, so I grab her right wrist and hold it in front of her face.

"So, what's that?" I demand, quite roughly.

Rose wrests herself from my grip and runs across the sitting room to her bedroom. I decide to leave her on her own until sanity has returned.

* * *

I dive, face first, onto my four poster bed, and rerun the last few minutes in my head. A wave of embarrassment too strong to describe envelops me. How could I have been so stupid? And how could I have acted so desperately? This is exactly the type of behaviour that James is adamant will develop in me if I keep seeing Scorpius. But just now, that, it was so inexplicable. There was this overwhelming feeling of being loved, and I knew the one thing that I could do to make Scorpius love me was to offer myself to him on a plate. But, clearly, I made a major misjudgement somewhere along the line. Because, just like everyone else, he doesn't love me either. He probably thinks I could never compare to Salinas.

I refuse to let any more tears fall; they probably couldn't even if I wanted them to, I don't think there's enough moisture left in my eyes.

And then, I remember something which had completely slipped my mind until now; Lily had already read that letter before I knew what it said. Which means that she possibly has the same mentality as Teddy. And, knowing her, she won't have been able to keep it to herself, and she'll have told everyone, and there won't be a single person left that has any faith in me.

I always regarded myself as being ridiculously lucky in having so many cousins, because I knew it meant that there were numerous people to care about me and love me, but I never looked at it in the reverse; there's exactly the same number of people to abhor me.

I curl myself into the foetal position and wonder what my mom would do in my situation.

The answer is blindingly obvious: my mother would never in a million years get herself into this situation because she knew how to stick to the status quo. She found a man from her own house, her best friend of seven years, and made her life with him. She never once looked at Draco Malfoy.

I've had the perfect example set for me, yet I still manage to mess up. I hope I don't disappoint my family _too _badly.

* * *

Rose stays cocooned in her bedroom for three hours.

It is after mid-day before she reappears, carefully made up, and balances herself precariously on the edge of the sofa.

Neither of us wants to be the first to speak.

Finally, she spots a tissue under the sofa that I've failed to retrieve, and she Banishes it to the bin. "You missed one" she says, unnecessarily, and I'm worried that the heavy awkwardness hanging over us like a guillotine is going to become a permanent fixture of our relationship.

Rose gets up and strides across the room, back towards her bedroom, only to stop halfway across the carpet. She dithers for about thirty seconds trying to decide whether she should continue onto her bedroom, or whether she should turn around and come back.

She is still standing there, stock still, when I make my decision and get up from the sofa also. It only takes six or seven strides for me to reach Rose, where she is still stood, feet firmly planted to the ground. When I put my right hand on her shoulder she visibly flinches from my touch. "It's not that I don't want to" I say, trusting that Rose comprehends my meaning, "But you're in a real state right now, and you running off like that just proves that you're not ready yet"

Rose is as still as a Muggle statue for a few more moments, before she turns, excruciatingly slowly, to face me.

"Do you love me?" she demands quietly, throwing me from what I thought the topic of conversation was.

I reply, nonetheless, "You know I do. I've already told you that"

Rose shakes her head slowly, "No, I don't mean that. When you said you loved me, you meant teenage love. I'm talking about the real thing. Do you really love me?"

I'm struck down by silence. I don't know what to answer. In the first place, I don't know what this _love _is; I've only ever felt lust, and what I feel for Rose.

She takes this silence as my answer, "I thought as much" she says softly, wriggling from beneath my grip and heading towards the portrait hole.

* * *

"I was trying to kid myself" I acknowledge sadly, tearing up daisies from the grass and ripping their petals off venomously. Freddie, who is being unnaturally reserved and not playing the joker as he usually would, looks at me and then looks out across the Lake.

"It's not usual to fall in love with the first guy you date" he says wisely, sounding more the Romeo than the Mercutio, "I mean, even your mom. She went out with Viktor Krum before she married Uncle Ron"

Even the fact that my mother got it wrong the first time around cannot cheer me up. My mind just keeps replaying that first Saturday of school, lying on the grass next to Malfoy until it grew dark and then him having to carry me back into the castle because I was so stubborn.

I conveniently forget the part where, less than an hour later, I put him under the Imperius Curse.

"It would never have worked" I sigh, resigning myself to the fact that I'm most probably destined to travel the road of life without ever finding true love.

"It'll happen one day" Freddie says, as though he's been reading my mind, "And don't worry about James and Teddy, it's a macho thing, they just don't want to see you get hurt"

Well, I can't say that they're doing the best of jobs, seeing as how they're the ones causing all the heartache.

When there are hundreds and hundreds of little white petals scattered all around us and I'm tired of destroying Nature, I get up wearily, realising that my body language is more like that of a sixty-five year old than an eighteen year old.

"I don't want to go back up there. Imagine how awkward it's going to be" I grumble, as Freddie prods and pokes me towards the entrance to the castle, "Can't we go and see Hagrid for a bit?"

Freddie glares at me and keeps pushing, "By the sounds of it, things cannot get any more awkward, so I suggest that you go and have a nice rational chat with Malfoy, and then, _and only then, _if you feel the same way, do I give you permission to walk into the Lake with a pocket full of rocks"

Nice to see that Freddie is using my misery as an excuse to make a joke.

* * *

"Can I come in?" a plaintive voice asks from the entrance to the sitting room. I put my quill down and turn towards Rose.

"You've got just as much right as I do to be here" I reply, and Rose takes a few cautious steps into the room, as though I might pounce on her and hex her at any chance I get. As it is, to show her that I am entirely non-confrontational, I leave my wand on the coffee table, next to my parchment and ink, and get up slowly.

There is a friction between us that has never been there before; even when she represented everything I hated in a witch, I never felt any pressure between us and I always took great pleasure in telling her I though she was scum.

Not like now.

Not only do I know that she is most definitely _not _scum, there's something hanging between us that is preventing me from communicating with her.

"Are you okay?" I enquire politely, worried that she'll assume that I've spent the past two hours sitting her doing a Care of Magical Creatures essay, when in fact I've been sitting here for the past two hours ruining ream after ream of parchment because I was so anxious about her.

She doesn't betray any hint of any such feeling in her reply, "I was with Freddie. I was fine"

I'm finding it quite surreal that we're standing here, isolated and colder than ice, because of one letter to her written by Lupin.

"I'm going to sleep in Gryffindor Tower tonight" she announces, which doesn't surprise me, but does hurt. "And, I think it'd be better if you patrolled the bottom four floors tonight, and I'll do the others. That way we won't bump into each other"

I don't nod, I don't indicate in any way that I've heard any of what she's said.

As she turns to leave after her brief visit I realise that I don't feel anything at all; I'm completely numb.

* * *

"Merlin. Anybody would have thought that somebody's died" Lily says insensitively, as I sit at the Gryffindor Table, my back turned towards where Scorpius is sitting, and barely touching the food on my plate.

"Rose" Al prods me, a recurring theme for the day, "You love lasagne, so eat it already"

I look down at the structure of mince, cheese sauce and pasta on my plate. I hadn't even realised it was lasagne. "I'm not hungry" I reply listlessly, using my fork to push my practically untouched food around my plate.

"I'll eat it" Hugo chirps up, mischievous grin firmly plastered to his face, "No point in good lasagne going to waste"

I put up no fight for my dinner, merely slide it across the table towards Hugo, whilst Louis looks on thoughtfully.

Roxanne joins the dinner table late, and sits down with an explanatory, "Had double Potions detention. Lorento made me scrub the dungeon floor 'cus I accidentally-on purpose set Ebony Carmichael's cauldron two flames too high and her potion bubbled over and flooded the dungeon yesterday" Roxanne looks up, and then adds, "There is an atmosphere like a morgue at this table. What's wrong with you people?"

There are a few covert glances in my direction, which Roxanne doesn't exactly get, "What's wrong with Rose?" she asks her brother, loudly, before helping herself to about half a French baguette of garlic bread. Freddie mutters something under his breath, which is completely useless, because Roxanne replies in what she supposes to be a whisper, "What do you mean Rose and Malfoy had a row? What type of row?"

I sink even further into melancholy as my relatives continue with their meal, and by the time they've all eaten all the strawberry cheesecake and black forest gateau they can, I'm ready for a good night's sleep. However, Al's wearing of orange Chudley Cannon robes reminds me that it's Saturday, and much as I want to curl up on a sofa in the Gryffindor Common Room, I cannot, I have to go and check that everybody's behaving themselves and are in bed like good little students. For obvious reasons this is a task that I automatically relate to Scorpius, and the prospect of it does nothing at all to cheer me up.

* * *

As I wander aimlessly up and down the bottom for corridors of the castle, I wonder if Rose is having any more fun than I am. As I pass by the hourglasses depicting the House points in the Entrance Hall I register that the levels of the jewels in _all _the Houses have seen a serious reduction over the past twenty four hours. This gives me an indication of exactly how angry Rose is; docking points is her favourite thing to do when she's in a bad mood.

Even as I stand watching, the rubies in the Gryffindor hourglass visually decrease, and I don't feel too envious of whoever is out of bed past curfew; I'm surprised that I can't hear the admonishment from down here. I truly do pity Gryffindor Tower, who are going to have to be on their better-than-best behaviour tonight if they want any House points left at all by the morning.

Now that I've worked my way down the floors I'm free to go back to the Common Room, but it is with feet heavier than lead that I traipse back up the six flights of stairs. Rose's division of our weekly duty has worked perfectly; I've not seen her at all since dinner, and even then that was only the back of her head. I see no point in going to sit all alone in an empty room that's just going to make me feel morose.

Unluckily for me, I don't really have a choice. I can hardly haunt the Hogwarts' corridors all night long, there are plenty of ghosts to do that for me.

Florence, the old portrait witch, is engaged in her usual pastime of knitting when I approach her and sigh.

"Mr Malfoy? You look a bit down, if you don't mind me saying so, sir" The portrait looks down at me in concern, "And I know that it's none of my business, but I really do think that if you just go and speak to Miss Weasley, you might be able to solve your problems. Not that I was eavesdropping, sir" she adds hastily.

I open my mouth to give her the password, think better of it, close my mouth abruptly and turn on my heel. My feet seem to be a few steps ahead of my brain, and before I've had time to really think it through, I'm standing outside Gryffindor Tower, being looked upon contemptuously.

"Password?" The Fat Lady demands loftily, and although I open my mouth to give it to her, no words come out. She sneers at me, as I fight an internal battle.

It'd be suicide to walk into that Tower and attempt to speak to Rose whilst surrounded by her cousins. On the other hand, I refuse to just walk away from her. In the 'wise' words of Draco Malfoy, "You should never let the sun go down on an argument, you should stay up all night and fight"

In the end, when I've stood still in front of the portrait in silence for minutes, I accept defeat, sigh, and turn around.

I've just got to resign myself to loneliness tonight.


	21. Of Plans and Making up

**A/N: I'm not even going to say anything relating to the lateness of this update, it'd just sound insincere. Just read it please, and I will make the MOST concerted effort to update within, you know, the next year or so, I just can't fit everything in my life in, 24 hours aren't enough in the day. xxx**

"There!" I say, throwing down the quill I've been using for the past fifteen minutes and lifting my parchment off the table Lily and I are sitting at. Lily narrows her eyes at my drawing and retorts, "It's a bit plain, don't you think?"

I turn my parchment around and cast a critical eye over my creation; strapless, decorated bodice, just puffy enough skirt.

"It's classic" I return, snatching Lily's parchment off her. An explosion of colour hits me, and I put it down on the table immediately.

"No, no, no, a thousand times no, Lily"

Lily pouts, and starts to shred her 'labour of love', "You're such a traditionalist" she spits, like it's supposed to be an insult, and I smile back.

"Can you actually see yourself wearing that monstrosity?" I demand, and for a few seconds her face is completely straight. It does not take long, however, for her to burst into laughter.

"Maybe not" she concedes, "Just don't put me in anything too beige, okay?"

I sigh, and wonder how the daughter of the Wizarding World's most loved hero is such a rebel. "At this rate I'm never going to get down the aisle" I moan, staring longingly at the wedding dress I've designed.

Lily ceases laughing and puts a manicured hand on my shoulder. "I wouldn't have just sat there designing a bridesmaid's dress for myself if I thought I'd never get to wear it" she replies comfortingly, and it's got to be one of the most mature and reasoned pieces of advice that Lily has given in her life. "Besides" she adds, "I know that Malfoy is intelligent, and ridiculously good looking, and makes you laugh, and you love him, but who says it would have worked out anyway?"

I raise an eyebrow and shake my head, "You know what? I think Dominique would actually make a really good Chief Bridesmaid, I can't really count on you for pre-wedding jitters, I don't think"

Sad as it is, planning my Dream Wedding, to a completely anonymous groom, with Lily does cheer me up. And okay, so maybe I will never get married, but at least if any guy does ever ask me, now I'll know exactly what colour scheme I want, and how many bridesmaids, and all the mundane stuff that people spend far too much time bickering over.

I've even decided against a Winter Wedding, even though Lily is insistent that icicles would make an amazing decoration.

I'd forgotten how much I love spending time with Lily; losing Malfoy has made me appreciate her so much more.

* * *

Waking up on a Sunday to an empty Common Room is pretty much as bad as waking up on a Sunday morning to an empty Malfoy Manor, if not worse. I'm used to waking up to an empty Malfoy Manor; my parents are forever swanning off to elegant black robe soirées which aren't exactly my scene, and they'll nearly always stay over in a guest suite at the host's Mansion/Hall/Castle (delete as applicable.) And, at the Manor there's always a House Elf on hand. So maybe they don't provide the most scintillating conversation, but to an only child any company is good company.

Whereas, here, there's always been someone. I spent six years sharing a dormitory with three other boys, and this year every morning has been a rollercoaster ride, from hurling insults at one another to snide remarks to tentative greeting to amorous reception. So, a completely blank, 'nobody-else-is-here' Sunday morning isn't fun, that I've established.

I spend pretty much all of the morning curled under my duvet, imagining what Rose is doing, whether she's thinking about me and whether she misses me as much as I miss her. A waste of a morning, I know, but what else can I do, except the three or four essays that are lying untouched on my desk? I already decided that I'm not in the mood to do them right now, and anyway, I need Rose's help with the Transfiguration essay, or I'm bound to get a 'D.'

I imagine that this is how Romeo spent a lot of his time, longing after Rosaline (except for all those early morning walks) and thinking about the Muggle play naturally reminds me of Rose, and the first night of this year where I was more than prepared to jump off the Astronomy Tower than consider her my equal. I feel sick with myself, bringing back these memories, and I wonder if she also regrets the things that were said and done in those first few days of term.

When the clock strikes twelve I have already decided that there is no way that I'm going down to Sunday Lunch, I'd rather be gored by a manticore, thanks very much.

* * *

"Come on" Lily tempts, tugging at the sleeve of my top. "Eat any less and you'll melt away, you're already skin and bone" She enviously pulls up my pyjama top and pokes my stomach, "I couldn't get a tummy that flat if I starved myself for a year, what's your excuse?"

I push Lily's tickling fingers away and fake a yawn. Really quite badly.

"I'm tired Lils, and I'm not hungry. Go down to lunch without me; you're already late"

Lily sniffs contemptuously and says, "I don't see how you're letting a man stand between you and a meal. It's quite pathetic"

"What do you want me to do?" I find myself shouting at Lily for no apparent reason, I'm not in the least angry with _her. _"Slip into a Little Black Dress and go and flaunt myself?"

"If you have to" Lily shouts back, never one to be outshouted, "Just get out of your pyjamas, come downstairs and stop acting like a big baby. You're supposed to be the Head Girl, for Merlin's sake"

Lily and I both breathe deeply for a few moments, in an attempt to regain some of the oxygen that we've lost in screaming at one another. (That was just a minor spate, by the way, usually they get much worse, especially when Lily's involved)

"Now" Lily finally continues, in a much more rational tone, "I know Sunday Lunch isn't exactly your favourite occasion anyway, but you've got to put on a brave face, okay? It's the first rule of Love" She sounds so self-righteous and world wisely that I can't help but bring her down a few notches.

"I thought Love transcended all rules and boundaries" Lily looks aggrieved for a moment, before realising that I have made a remark typical of the Rose Weasley she's always known, and she gives a tiny smile, "Have it your way" she concedes, "They're the Lily Potter Rules of Love. And even Love wouldn't dare disagree with me"

A truer statement has never been spoken.

Well, at least until Lily adds bluntly, "You look a mess. You've seriously got to clean up before you go downstairs. Go and take a shower, use my shampoo, it's the one with the sparkly, moving 'Lily Potter' hologram label. I'll sort out some clothes for you whilst you do that. I wonder what colour will best suit the mood you're in-"

I leave Lily to organise herself; she seems to be having fun hypothesising about the advantages of robes vs. Muggle clothing, and I step into a shower in the Gryffindor Bathroom.

* * *

As Muggle Studies has been a compulsory OWL ever since Lord Voldemort did that 'world domination' thing, I know a lot more about Muggle technology than my parents think is decent for a nice Pureblood boy to know.

For example, they have this fantastic invention, which they call 'the ear' and _apparently _they are used for listening.

Sorry, my mistake, rumour has it that we wizards are also technologically advanced enough to have these _ear _things too.

I hadn't noticed, seeing as how my father doesn't seem to have taken in any of what I said to him on Friday.

Like, the whole, 'This has nothing to do with you' part, judging by the owl that arrives at my bedroom window part way through The Worst Day of my Entire Life. As soon as I see Midnight, I know that he means business; Midnight is the owl that is used to convey post between my family and other equally important people, and I usually get my post from Osiris, a much more domestic bird.

The letter attached to Midnight's leg carries the Malfoy crest, and it is written on heavy, expensive parchment.

I have no idea of the subject, I'm not really in the mood to care, but as soon as I read it, my blood boils.

"_Scorpius, the Salinas family naturally understand that these years are some of the most troubled of a young man's life and that one is prone to rebel. Although they are obviously disappointed at your conduct with regards to the Weasley girl, they maintain that they are sill eager to forge the connection between the Malfoy and Salinas families, and that Mariah is happy to uphold her commitment to you as your fiancée. I await news of your renewed engagement. Sincerely, your father, Draco Malfoy"_

Or to paraphrase his letter into plain English, 'Scorpius, everybody else has discussed this behind your back, and although we still think that you're an idiot of a wizard, we're willing to forget that in order to make ourselves richer, so you'd better finish with Rose and get back with Mariah immediately'

Naturally, the letter is immediately shredded and incinerated but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I never expected any of this to happen to me, I expected the whole marriage, big house, baby thing. Now I've alienated myself from both the expected path and the one that I've been desiring for the past week or so (the one that Rose features heavily in) and I don't know which direction to turn in next.

* * *

"Everybody's going to stare at me and they're going to be talking about me behind my back and he's going to be there, and what if he's back with Mariah, and I look like a complete idiot, and what am I wearing, and why did I let you drag me into doing this?"

In the Entrance Hall I'm having a minor freak out, as you might be able to tell. I take a few calming, cleansing breathes as Lily indicates, and allow her soothing pep talk to wash over me.

"Yes, everyone will stare at you, and they will talk about you, because you look amazing. There's going to be so much positive energy flowing that even if Malfoy is there with SuperBitch- hmm, excuse me, I mean Mariah"

A little giggle inadvertently escapes me, and Lily gives me the evil eye for interrupting her. "Yes, you look wonderful and after this meal you're going to feel wonderful too, that's a promise"

With this, Lily serenely traverses the marble floor and places a hand on the door of the Great Hall. "Shoulders back, head up, back straight, smile" she demands, with an Aunt Fleur-ish charm about her. "Now you're ready to make an entrance" She pushes the door open and I brace myself for the worst. "Come along" Lily hisses, because she wants to close the door behind me, but I'm still standing in the doorway. I recognise the risk of standing there deliberating is more likely to draw attention that acting like a normal human being, so I walk through the door, and down the Gryffindor Table at high speed. I scan the Slytherin Table for a flash of white blonde hair but I don't see it. Relief soars inside me, before it is fiercely extinguished by the fact that I've just made a really massive effort to get all dressed up, and he doesn't even have the decency to be here to acknowledge it.

To add insult to injury, Salinas is looking supremely happy and when she air kisses all of her friends goodbye, after eating pretty much nothing, I swear there is bile in the back of my throat.

"Rose, isn't that Lily's dress?" Roxanne asks from across the table.

Well, at least somebody was polite enough to notice, even if it was only my cousin.

* * *

I don't know why I expect the knock at the Portrait Hole to be Rose, she knows the password. But I figure she's just being wary of seeing me for the first time since she effectively moved out, so I relax my body and sit back on the sofa, straighten my robes and say clearly, "Enter" I take a deep breath and turn towards the doorway expectantly.

And all the air is knocked out of me.

"Hi Scorp" Mariah's sugary sweet voice greets me.

"Salinas" I reply curtly, and I see her flinch a little at how cold my voice is.

"Can I sit down?" she asks, gesturing towards the sofa I'm sitting on.

I want to tell her in the least polite possible way to tell her to leave this room, find a broom, and fly to Mars.

No, scratch that, Uranus. Mars is too close.

Unhappily, I don't.

Instead, I gesture at the sofa opposite me which she perches herself on.

"Where's Weasley?" she asks, her eyes flittering around the sitting room.

"Rose" I reply, "Is spending a little time with her family. They feel like she's been neglecting them lately"

Mariah nods slightly and smoothes her already poker straight hair, "So, everything's happy then?"

"Of course everything's happy" I snap back "I'm pretty surprised you haven't gotten your claws into anybody else yet"

She smirks, which disturbs me greatly, "No Scorp, I'm waiting for you to get over this little rebellious phase that you seem to be going through and then we're going to get married, as arranged. July 29th is still on"

I'm far too angry to pretend to act in a decorous way.

"Merlin, you stupid witch, when will you get it through that blonde hair of yours that I am _not _going to marry you? Not now. Not ever"

Mariah nods her head sympathetically and speaks to me like I'm a petulant child, "Okay Scorp, of course. Weasley is the love of your life. I completely understand"

"Her name is Rose" I yell, and my patience has run out, "GET OUT. NOW. And tell your father I'd rather be his House Elf than marry you"

Mariah stands up gratefully, and pets my cheek, "Scorp, I'll see you-"

"My name is Scorpius" Whilst I'm in the yelling and screaming mood, I may as well get that off my chest.

"Okay Scorpius." Mariah doesn't seem to have been deterred by anything I've said in the past two minutes "Well, give Rose my regards, won't you?"

"You can give them to Rose yourself" an ice cold voice says from the doorway. An irate looking Rose is stood there, and I realise that she is supremely beautiful when she's angry.

"See you tomorrow, Scorpius" Mariah's smile is scarily wide as she leans down to kiss me on the cheek.

"What are you doing?" I spit, as I wriggle away from her.

"Bye Scorpius" she sing-songs.

And now for Rose.

* * *

Malfoy looks really, really uncomfortable.

Good.

Because I knew that the second that I turned my back that he'd run back to that blonde bimbo. I should never have allowed Lily to force me into letting my guard down.

"I'm waiting" I say, after a full minute of stony silence. Malfoy is looking into his lap, and I'm enjoying this moment of power a little bit too much.

"Still waiting" I repeat, looking pointedly at the watch on my wrist.

"I thought it was you" he eventually replies quietly, at which I can't help but let out a little snort.

"I'm sorry" I say sarcastically, "I thought you just said that you got Salinas and I confused" Silence again, which I'm quite honestly getting bored of.

"Explain" I demand, tapping the heel of my shoe against the floor, and I don't even care that I'm displaying Hermione Weasley type traits.

"She knocked the door, and I let her in because I so needed it to be you"

"I know the password, you idiot, why would I knock on the door of my own room?" I ask, incredulous, practically worried as to how he can be so stupid. "This is getting _so _old, Malfoy. I mean I knew when I started this relationship with you that you didn't have the world's best track record when it comes to fidelity, but I never thought that the moment we have one tiny row that you'd go running back to _her; _that's just pathetic really"

"Because you're so blameless in this whole affair" Malfoy appears to have found his vocal chords at last, although I'd rather he didn't shout at me. "Who was it that thought that using another guy, and really hurting his feelings, would be the best way to get to me, huh?"

"Stop yelling at me" I scream back.

"Why don't you stop yelling at me" he shouts back, and even though I can see that we're practically heading towards the Apocalypse I don't think to calm down and be the bigger person.

"I'm leaving" I say, "I'm going and I'm not coming back" I've turned towards the door, fuming, before I turn back around and hiss, "Actually, why should I go? This is just as much my home as yours, you leave"

We appear to have reached some sort of stalemate; both of us refuse to move.

And so, we pass at least an hour in excruciatingly painful silence.

And then another hour.

And then another.

Then, Malfoy leaves for his room, and I breathe freely. But only for a minute. He returns, holding a stack of parchment which he dumps on the coffee table. I get up, on the pretence of stretching my legs, and walk behind him slowly.

Ha!

He's completely screwed up his Transfiguration essay; the wand movements are totally wrong and he's spelt the incantation phonetically wrong.

I'm not going to tell him though.

* * *

After three hours of complete moody silence even my Transfiguration homework is welcome relief. It looks horrifically wrong and I can just envisage the neat red 'D' of McGonagall in the top right hand corner. There was, of course, and ulterior motive in doing the Transfiguration homework first, in that I knew Rose wouldn't be able to help herself in correcting me, which would kill two birds with one stone; my homework would be correct, and Rose would be speaking to me.

Alas, Weasley has a little more self control than I give her credit for. Yes, she does get up as soon as she sees that I'm working, and yes, I do see her surreptitiously sneak a glance over my shoulder, but then she sits right back down on her sofa, as my quill continues to write absolute rubbish, without the consent of my brain. I look down at the parchment which is now covered with a massive ink stain from where I've held my quill, static, against it. I see a tiny muscle quirk at the corner of Rose's mouth, but she quickly smoothes away her smirk, not wanting to show that she's paying any attention to me.

And so, for once in my life, I decide to be the bigger person. "Rose, do you mind helping me with this Transfiguration essay, please?"

"And why exactly should I?" she replies stonily, and she reminds me of a Victorian widow for some absurd reason.

"Because" I say evenly, "I'm so sorry about everything that has been said and done over the past few days"

She continues to look at me, as if she expects more.

"And" I continue, when I realise that I don't have anything more sincere to add, "This essay is a complete travesty"

Rose's face stays completely straight as she responds, "I know. I've seen it, it's awful"

With that, and not another word, she picks up my essay and tears it in half, then into quarters, and then eighths. I am in the middle of staring at her in disbelief when she puts a clean piece of parchment in front of me, dips a new quill into black ink and places it into my hand.

"McGonagall prefers black into blue" she states matter-of-factly, settling herself back onto the sofa and stretching. "I dictate, you write. Can you handle that?"

I nod my consent, and am about to write my name in the centre at the top of the parchment when she stops me. "Write your name in the left hand corner" she commands, "It gives McGonagall more space to write comments"

No wonder Rose is in the habit of always getting 'O's; she knows every little trait of McGonagall's.

"Are you ready to start?" she asks, and I put the tip of my quill a millimetre or so above the parchment.

* * *

"You're a complete lifesaver Rose, thank you so much" Malfoy says gratefully as he rolls up his almost perfect essay.

Well, I couldn't make it flawless or McGonagall will realise that he didn't do it himself.

"Don't mention it" I reply, curling up into a ball on the sofa and closing my eyes, "Do you need any more help?"

Scorpius smiles properly for the first time today as he replies, "You sleep. You look tired"

Thanks Scorpius, just what every girl wants to be told.

"Got woken up early" I murmur, feeling myself falling asleep, "I can't believe how early the first years wake up"

"I always knew that sleeping in Gryffindor Tower was a bad idea" Scorpius says, opening up another textbook to start some end of chapter questions that Rossetti set us in Charms.

"Well, you could have told me that before I left" I yawn, my eyes flickering open slightly.

"I did" Scorpius asserts, nodding his head quite violently, "When you said that you were going I didn't say anything to you, and I didn't move, or do anything at all. And that silence meant 'sleeping in Gryffindor Tower is a really stupid idea, the first years will wake you up really early'"

I can't help but chuckle, since Scorpius is grinning so wickedly.

"Okay, okay" he concedes, "Maybe I didn't say anything then, but I was going to. I just felt a bit numb"

This sounds like it's going towards 'Kiss and Make up-ville.

I suppose I have been acting a tiny bit irrationally lately.

And maybe Scorpius didn't do anything that unforgivable.

"Are you staying here tonight?" he asks delicately, addressing the Charms textbook rather than myself.

"Lily's expecting me back. I told her I was going to the bathroom about four and a half hours ago and I just never came back. I'm actually offended that she hasn't sent out a search party" Scorpius' face falls before I add, "Well. She clearly hasn't even noticed. She's probably hiding out somewhere with Logan. It was so uncomfortable last night, they were all cuddly and cosy and slightly nausea inducing. I wanted to vomit, Al wanted to kill something. No, I don't need to face that again tonight. I miss my own bed"

Scorpius looks up from his book and smile again, "I missed you"

Warm fuzzy feeling in my heart?

Check.

Shy half smile?

Check.

Tongue tied?

Check.

All present and correct.

Which means that I've forgiven him and I'm ready to move on from 'Scorpius and Rose's first row'

Well, at any rate, our first row as a couple; if we're counting since Day One, the day we came to Hogwarts, it'd actually be the six hundred and seventeenth Rose and Scorpius row.

Not that I've been keeping count, or anything.

* * *

"I have a bad feeling about Logan" I announce suddenly, snapping my textbook shut and looking at Rose, who is officially no longer mad at me.

"What do you mean?" she asks, propping herself up on her elbow and yawning for the sixth time in as many minutes.

"I don't know" I shrug, feeling like a girl for bringing the subject up, "It's like intuition or something"

Rose laughs at me, not unpleasantly, and says, "Men aren't privileged enough to be blessed with intuition, I'm afraid. Now, female intuition, that's something worth talking about. And Lily's got bucket loads of it, which is why she's so good at Divination. If something was up with Logan, she'd know"

Doesn't change the fact that I don't like him. I didn't like Lassiter (okay, so there may be a conflict of interest there, but ignore it for a moment) and he was a perfect gentlemen.

And I know that Duncan Logan is the exact opposite of Lassiter.

Not that I'm starting to care about mini-Potter or anything. I just know that if Logan hurt her then Rose'd hit the roof and I don't want that to happen.

"Logan wouldn't dare" Rose continues, her eyes closed once more, "He'd be really stupid to mess with her, it's not like I'd let him get away with it, and Louis really isn't as gentle as he comes across"

The thing I'm worried about is if Logan is one Chaser short of a Quidditch Team, as I suspect, then he won't think about the consequences of his actions. And then Rose is going to commit criminal offences and she's going to get locked up in Azkaban.

Which I don't want.

"Anyway" she says sleepily, "I thought you were working? Stop worrying about Lily and her unsuitable choice of beau"

"And I thought you were sleeping?" I retort, reaching across the table to tug one of Rose's glossy curls. She slaps my hand away and says, "You know, I used to hate it when my dad did that to me. And Teddy. And James. And Victoire. And Grandma Molly. My hair was not designed to be pulled!" She looks so cute, with her little nose all scrunched up in protest, that I just have to laugh in relief.

"What's so funny?" she asks crossly, tucking the offended hair behind her ear.

"It's nothing" I reply, and the look on her face says that she's not buying it, "I'm just glad that you're here, being infuriated by me, and looking so adorably sweet"

She smiles at this, and lays her head down in her arms. After a few minutes her breathing grows deeper and slower. I'm just glad that she's here, sleeping, with no quarrel between us.

It's the end of one of the longest, hardest, strangest, but ultimately one of the best days on my life.


	22. Of Mornings and Warnings

**A/N: Apology necessary, much? Well, excuses really. My laptop has not been with me for about 4 months, what with it CRASHING on me every single time I switched it on. SO, my cousin's husband has now fixed it (gotta love Matt) and I have actually been writing, despite insane exam pressure. There are two more chapters written, they just need typing up, and my fingers are starting to hurt from mega typing. I'm hoping to get twenty-three written onto the computer this afternoon, but I have no idea when twenty four's going to get done, becasue time is like gold dust to me at the moment. Not a particularly sincere apology, huh? I just hope you enjoy, even after the ridiculously long wait. And thanks, if you're going to keep reading, even after I've been mean enough to keep you hanging on like this. Well, ciao for now. **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Sucks, I know.**

"Can you believe we haven't even been back at school for a month yet?" Scorpius asks, from the doorway of his bedroom, whilst putting his green and silver striped tie on. I Summon textbooks to the sitting room from my bedroom as I reply, "I know. Enough drama for the past six years. But yes, we only have done three weeks, and Merlin only knows how many weeks there are until the next holiday"

Scorpius answers immediately, "Twelve weeks"

I look over at him from the sofa, an amused smile on my lips, "Can't wait to escape from me, huh?" I ask, a hint of fake-hurt in my voice.

"That's not what I meant at all" he says, a touch defensively.

I guess our fight isn't _entirely _forgotten then. I should have known things would be a bit awkward at first. There is a lull in conversation as we both finish the sort of 'start of the new week' tasks that are necessary before we can go down to breakfast.

Actually it sort of reminds me of when Hugo and I were little, years ago, long before Hogwarts. My mom rushing around the house trying to get mine and Hugo's stuff ready to Floo us to Grandma Molly's for the day, and my dad being a typical man and not paying any attention to us at all, but sitting in the living room, eating toast because he could Apparate to the Ministry at a moment's notice. Of course, Scorpius and I aren't parents, but it's the same kind of Monday Morning rush experienced the world over.

"Where did I put that Transfiguration essay?" Scorpius asks in the same sort of relaxed tone that my dad asks, "Has anyone seen that Anti-Dark Arts Association Legislation that I was amending last night?" Both are important, though I think that my dad wins by a margin. Unlike my mother, I'm not used to the role of Personal Assistant, so rather than whipping said Legislation off the mantelpiece at the same time as brushing her hair, doing up the buttons on Hugo's jacket and asking me whether I've brushed my teeth, I put a hand on my hip and ask Scorpius whether my help means so little to him that he's managed to lose the essay in less than twenty four hours. His reply is, "Of course not. I know exactly where it...oh, there's the little devil!"

I sigh wearily.

* * *

"I'll see you in class" Rose chirps, kissing me delicately on the mouth before sauntering off down the Gryffindor Table towards an expectant looking Mini-Potter. Once again I get to go and eat alone surrounded by pretentious Slytherins and people who generally hate my guts. I am trying to enjoy my coffee, and not succeeding too well, when a heavy 'thump' on the bench next to me heralds the arrival of Anthony and Edward Taylor, which means that my beloved Quidditch Captain and Slytherin Seeker, Phillipe DiNozzo, has something to say to me.

"Malfoy" DiNozzo greets, his near-black eyes boring into my skull, and although I want to stare into my coffee cup, I lift my eyes to his and stare back coolly. "DiNozzo" I reply, "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" There is a moment of silence in which the Taylor brothers crack their knuckles menacingly, in an attempt to psych me out.

Really. I'm a Malfoy; they're going to have to try a tiny bit harder to get me running scared.

DiNozzo sighs and says, "It's this business with Weasley. I'll give you this Malfoy; I've always said she's a good looking girl, and no doubt she looks good on your arm, but the fact remains that she's a half-blood and a Gryffindor"

Cue conflicted emotions. About twenty different voices start talking in my head at once, ranging from a gleeful, 'DiNozzo's jealous' through to, 'He'd better stop talking about Rose, or I'm going to break his nose' I manage to get the voices under control before I reply, with constraint, "It's not going to affect my game. We're both mature enough to realise that there's no space for a relationship on the pitch; we've talked about it"

Okay, so not strictly true, but we will talk about it at some point, so what's one little fabrication of the truth?

"It's not that" DiNozzo says with a hint of hardness in his voice, "It's image Malfoy. I can't have one of my players seen with a half-blood. It's just the way things are" He leaves without another word, with the unspoken ultimatum hanging between us: Rose or Quidditch.

Just what I need first thing on a Monday morning, and I have no doubt as to who is behind the whole thing.

* * *

"Spill" Lily demands, the second I sit down next to her. I pick up a pot of coffee, pour it very delicately into a cup, add milk and sugar, and stir serenely, all the while with an air of ease. Beside me Lily is practically boiling, in fact she reminds me of a whistling kettle, what with the high pitched squeaking noises she's emitting. After I've taken a sip of coffee, I glance around loftily and ask in my most pretentious voice, "Has anybody seen the pain au chocolat?" In her rush to shove the plate full of pastries in front of my face, Lily demolishes several other people's breakfasts, including Freddie's mountain of scrambled eggs, Lucy's croissant and jam, and a fifth year boy's bacon sandwich. Whilst the fifth year wipes tomato ketchup off his nose, Lily pants next to me, absolutely desperate to hear what she's got to say.

"So" she shrieks into my ear, as I take a bite of my breakfast, "Tell me! You never came back last night, I want to know everything that happened"

"Not much" I reply smoothly, "Caught Salinas with Scorpius, had blazing argument with Scorpius, sat in silence for three hours, helped Scorpius with Transfiguration essay, made up with Scorpius" Lily's face is comic; as I describe each separate action of my night her expression changes in perfect sync, from 'sheer horror' at 'had blazing argument with Scorpius' to 'wide smile' at 'made up with Scorpius.' Although I would have thought that my fairly uneventful evening would be anti-climatic for Lily, she doesn't seem to be exhibiting too much of that particular emotion.

"Wow, Rosie" she breathes, (I pass by the stupid nickname; if people don't get that I hate it after eighteen years, they never will) "I wish my love life was like yours. I mean, falling head over heels in love with your arch-nemesis of six years, that's the type of thing you read in books"

I'm glad that at least someone is gaining pleasure from the suffering of my heart. I sigh and roll my eyes as Lily preens and flicks her hair, which gains a lot of male attention, which, of course, is exactly what she's aiming for. Within thirty seconds there is a good looking young Ravenclaw (Merlin, I thought _they _were supposed to be intelligent) standing in front of Lily, holding heavy textbooks for her. "Thanks, Alex" she beams, at the bedazzled Ravenclaw.

"Have fun in Transfiguration" I call after their retreating figures.

* * *

"Mr Malfoy" Rossetti tuts, as Rose and I step through the door of her classroom about five seconds late. "I truly would appreciate it if you and Miss Weasley saw fit to turn up to my classes on time in future"

The irritating thing is, she hasn't even started her lesson yet, but she's clearly in one of _those _moods. Rossetti is a supremely volatile teacher; one day she's all House Points and smiles, and the next she's Detentions and yelling. She is the archetypal woman. You would have thought that Magical Medicine would have created a cure for this 'P.M.S' lark by now, but no, women still get as grouchy as grindylows every single month. Come to think of it, it's a bit like werewolfism, just not controlled by a full moon. The most annoying thing is that women's mood swings are a lot less predictable than werewolves. At least you know a werewolf's going to want to eat you; with a woman she might want to kiss your face off, or slap you silly. Rose is, unfortunately, no exception. No doubt our little tiff earlier in the week was due to hormonal swings.

Rose and I sit down, and I take her hand under the table and squeeze it. The choice that DiNozzo gave me was really no choice at all. I won't even consider giving Rose up, not for all the Galleons in the world, so certainly not for the Keeper position on the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Rose gives me a curious look, which prompts Rossetti to rap her wand on her desk and demand Rose's full attention. So Rose turns her face back to look at the chalkboard, but gives my fingers a squeeze under the desk and smiles out front, a smile which is meant for me. And, as Rossetti carries on in her erratic 'P.M.S' style of teaching, my brain cuts out so that I'm vaguely aware that I'm going to have to copy Rose's notes after the lesson.

I realise that I've come to depend on Rose an awful lot in my life, admittedly mainly in the homework department, and I know that I'd collapse entirely if she wasn't a part of my life.

She clearly has no idea what's going on in my head as she scribbles down her usual copious notes, all the while with a satisfied little grin on her face.

* * *

'Dear Theodore, I hope that you notice the use of your full first name. I did contemplate for a little while writing out Theodore Remus Lupin, to really emphasise my mood, but I thought that it'd be lost on you, and therefore a waste of my time and effort. I'm replying to that letter that you sent me, in which the words 'traitor', 'scum', 'prostitute' and several other more unspeakable were used. I'm replying to say that it's about time that you stop acting like a complete prat and let me get on with my life, and please pass that message onto James. You know absolutely nothing about Scorpius or me, so keep your nose out. You have no idea how much havoc your stupid immature letter caused, and I'm not giving you the satisfaction of telling you. Just know that my life does not revolve around everything you and James Potter say, and contrary to your beliefs, I AM STILL A VIRGIN. So there! Yours sincerely, and sincerely hoping that you turn back into a regular human being really soon, Rose'

In my view, the letter starts well, but ends a letter weakly. I contemplate erasing the exclamation mark after 'So there' for a little while, before leaving it in place. Then I put the parchment into an envelope, and write 'Teddy Lupin' on the outside, before strapping it to Echo's leg.

A productively spent lunchtime, there's no doubt about it. And maybe now my cousins will stop taking it upon themselves to wreck my life. I give my beautiful bird a quick stroke, which she replies to with a gentle nip before she hurtles out of the window of the Owlery.

It feels like that chapter of my life is now really over and I can finally move on. It's not like I ever notice the colour of Scorpius' tie, or his surname and if it doesn't matter to me then why should it matter to anyone else?

After spending the majority of my lunch break in this employment, it's a bit of a relief to sit down to lunch and not have to worry about the emotional rollercoaster that is a relationship with a former arch-enemy.

* * *

"Rose, I'm giving up Quidditch" I blurt, having spent about fifteen minutes worrying about telling her. "Uh huh" she murmurs, engrossed in a Herbology textbook. Doing it once was torturous, the fact that I now have to do it again, so that she might actually hear me, is going to be excruciating, because saying it makes it true.

"Can you pass me that ink please, Scorpius?" she asks, without moving her eyes from the textbook. I put the ink on the table in front of her. She's halfway through taking notes on a page when her eyes flick up at me, and she squeaks, "You're doing _what_?" I cover my ears theatrically and wince at the pitch of her voice. "You're doing what?" she demands again, looking for an answer this time.

"I'm not giving up Quidditch, per say" I explain, "But I'm quitting the team"

She gives me an absolutely appalled look, and closes the textbook sharply. "And what has prompted this decision?" she asks delicately, looking me in the eye.

I have more sense than to let her know about my ultimatum.

"It'll just be easier. I mean, we're on opposing teams and I don't want things to get awkward when Quidditch-mania sets in"

She hasn't moved her eyes from mine.

"And now the truth, please?" she says, and my heart sinks.

I hate the fact that she can tell the second that I'm lying.

And I love it at the same time.

"Can you please just trust me on this one? Please Rose?" I ask her, stretching over to stroke her cheek. There is an instinct in her body to flinch away from me, I can see it in her eyes, but to her credit, she controls it. 'Just trusting' Scorpius Malfoy seems to be something that it is not in her nature to do.

"I trust you" she replies, and she's not lying to me, "But please can we talk about this Quidditch thing? Please?"

I really don't want to discuss the issue, I don't want to bring 'the image of the Slytherin Quidditch Team' or the opinion of Phillipe DiNozzo into this, because I don't care about either of them half as much as I care about Rose.

I don't care about them at all.

"There really is nothing to discuss" I try to end the conversation so that I don't start thinking of giving up Quidditch as a sacrifice.

Because, although I'd sacrifice absolutely anything for Rose, I'm finding this pretty difficult.

* * *

"So, let's get this straight" I demand angrily, the crackling fire reflecting my agitation, "Phillipe 'I think I own the world' DiNozzo has basically threatened to throw you off the team if you don't finish with me?" I feel like stamping on his head.

"That's about the scope of it" Scorpius replies uncomfortably, tearing a scrap of parchment into tinier and tinier pieces.

"But Scorpius, that's blackmail!" I exclaim, but I don't seem to be getting through to him. Okay, so he really obviously didn't want to discuss the subject, and it has taken an inordinate amount of wheedling to get him to tell me this much.

"That's my father" he replies miserably, and now that he's torn the parchment into flecks of dusk, he proceeds to scrunch up the bottom of his robes quite savagely.

Of course Draco Malfoy is involved in this somewhere, how could he not be?

I let out a little scream of frustration. "Merlin Scorpius, you can't let your father and your Quidditch Captain rule your life. I should know, I've let it happen for far too long"

Why is it that Scorpius and I can't have a normal relationship, with no drama?

No, there has to be cousins and parents and blackmailers involved.

"Please can we let this drop now?" Scorpius pleads, looking a tiny bit on the pathetic side, "I've made my decision, and it's not about to change. You come before Quidditch, no doubt"

Although I turn back to my textbook my mind is a million miles away from the properties of deadly aqueous pond life.

My mind is on Scorpius and Quidditch, and the fact that I know that he's really good.

Like Quidditch World Cup good.

I've played on the opposing team to his, and he's saved some of my best goal efforts. I can't believe that DiNozzo would jeopardize the fate of Slytherin, because there isn't a better Keeper in the House than Scorpius.

In fact, there's probably not a better Keeper in the school, (No offense, Freddie.)

Merlin, Draco Malfoy is good. He got to DiNozzo in, what, three days?

And is slowly but surely destroying everything that Scorpius loves.

And because I care about him a lot, I let the subject drop, at least, as far as he's concerned.

He doesn't know, but I think I need to have a bit of a chat with Phillipe DiNozzo, to see whether or not he can't be persuaded against this stupid ultimatum he's imposed.

* * *

"Do you think that we're going to turn into one of those sickly sweet couples who call each other 'honey' and are joined at the hip?" Rose asks, as we are curled up on the sofa in front of the fire. I've never thought about it, never thought that far into the future. "I hope not" I reply, kissing the top of her head, "Those people irritate me really badly" She nods in agreement, and we carry on just being, enjoying the feeling that for once everything is running vaguely smoothly.

"You know, if we were Muggles, this probably wouldn't be half so difficult" Rose states boldly, before I remind her, ever so gently, about the Capulets versus the Montagues, and all the angst that was caused. "At least nobody's dead yet" she jokes, even though I don't find it very funny. While her dad is probably happy just fantasizing about castrating and murdering me, my father is more likely pacing up and down in his study at home attempting to find a way for Rose to die, accidently, that will also get me back with Mariah.

"Are you happy, Rose?" I ask the tired, but angelic looking girl lying across my lap. She smiles up at me, "When I'm with you I'm always happy"

Which, from her lips, doesn't even sound like a cliché.

"I'm going to bed" she adds, stretching out and flicking her fringe from her eyes.

At the entrance to her room Rose looks back at me and smiles sleepily, a smile that is pretty much beauty in itself. "Goodnight Scorpius" she says softly, closing the door behind her before I can bid her goodnight in reply.

Then, the door opens again and her head pokes out, "Oh, and Scorpius" she says, sort of shyly, "Thank you" She has disappeared again before I realise that she's thanking me for choosing her over Quidditch.

And then, something else hits me, like a bolt of lightning; that's Love.

Not, 'I love you' in the platonic, friendly, non-committal sort of way.

I mean Love, with a capital 'L'

"Merlin, I love her" I whisper to myself, sitting alone in the sitting room, silent but for fire, "I really, really love her"

The feeling sort of hurts.

**Also: I totally mean no offense, if you happen to be in a relationship where you call your respective other 'honey', it is cute for some people, I'm just the complete opposite of romantic, what with guys having this tendency not to like me (I'm still trying to figure out exactly why.) AND, I am a girl, so I am allowed to be mean about pre-menstrual females, without meaning any offense, because it happens to me all the time, that however, does not make guys saying stuff like that about girls right. So, I myself am angry at Scorpius for his stupid 'archetypal woman' comment. **

**Really going to do Chapter 23 now.**


	23. Of Conversations and Captains

**A/N: Okay, so I over-ran my own deadline by a couple of hours, but at least it didn't take like five months this time, so that's something to be thankful for, right? Oh, and also, yes, that was a very badly veiled reference to Tony DiNozzo from NCIS; I am a tiny little bit in love with him. So, if you want a mental image of Phillipe, just think Tony. Well, there we go, please enjoy and review if you'd like, thanks guys.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah, it's not mine, we all know.**

"Fancy seeing you here" I say softly to a rather startled looking Phillipe DiNozzo, and this has got to be the first time in six years that I've ever seen him without Tweedledum and Tweedledee (from Alice through the Looking Glass, this amazing Muggle children's story that my mom loved when she was little)

"You are, Weasley, standing at the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room at, oh, six thirty in the morning" he replies smoothly, flicking his wrist to show off an amazingly expensive looking silver watch to me.

"So, where are you heading off to at this uncivilised hour of the morning?" I ask politely, perhaps a little more politely than I intended.

"I could ask you the same thing" he says, the arrogant glint in his eye ever present, "Shouldn't you and Malfoy be closeted up in your room, ready for another day of wretched heartache?"

I laugh lightly, which clearly surprises him. "Jealousy is such an ugly emotion, DiNozzo" I comment, at which he chokes a little, in the most dignified of manners, of course.

"You think that I'm jealous of Malfoy because of _you_?" he asks disgustedly, whilst I keep glaring at him coolly.

"Don't be so incredibly stupid" I reply, "You're jealous because you're not half the Quidditch player he is, and you never will be. What else prompts blackmail of that outrageous nature?" I finish sweetly, slipping my wand out of my robe pocket and twirling it between my fingers, an action which visibly unsettles DiNozzo. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, you're not worth the effort" I say, taking a step back just to reassure the poor little thing that the big, bad Rose has no wicked intentions, "But, see, the thing is" I continue calmly, "You are hurting Scorpius really quite badly, and although it's proven to me that he truly does like me, proof which, by the way, I didn't need, I don't like to think of him as being upset, especially on your account. Do you understand?"

And for my parting shot?

"And DiNozzo, you let Draco Malfoy know that he's chosen the wrong Weasley to mess with, like a good little boy"

* * *

"Morning sleepyhead" Rose greets, even though it's quarter past eight in the morning and I'm still tired.

"Why are you so chirpy?" I grumble, kissing her forehead, before practically collapsing from exhaustion on the sofa.

"Why are you so grumpy?" she returns cheerily, her eyes twinkling far too brightly for this absurd hour of the morning.

I am grumpy because I am tired, and I am tired because I've been up half the night with my stomach tied in knots because I've finally allowed myself to experience an adult emotion that has the potential to hurt me.

But Rose doesn't need to know that.

So I simply mumble back, "Tired"

She rolls her eyes playfully and orders, "Go and make yourself look like the dashing and beautiful Scorpius Malfoy that I've known for six years, and then you can take me to breakfast" Then she giggles at herself and asks, "I didn't just call you 'dashing', did I? Oh dear, I'm turning into my grandmother"

I leave her with her ridiculously satisfied self, and as I dress I wonder why she is so ludicrously happy, because the girl who went to bed last night was on the 'fuming' end of angry, and although she was grateful as well, she definitely wasn't so content.

No, content is the wrong word.

She's practically joyous.

When I'm all washed up and dressed and 'dashing' I ask her, "What's with the brightness this morning?" as she practically skips through the Hogwart's corridors like a little kid in Honeydukes.

"Am I not allowed to be cheerful once in a while?" she demands, and her smile is something that can never be recreated.

Damn that smile.

Not only does it make me fall a tiny bit more in love with her every time I see it, it also reminds me that love leads to heartache, which I'm in no hurry to experience.

"Hey Scorpius, are you listening to me?" a voice that seems far away asks, and I realise that I've been spacing out.

"No" I reply guiltily, and squeeze Rose's fingers in apology. She sighs, an exasperated yet still happy sigh and repeats, "Did you want to look at my Charms before Rossetti's class? She's in her dragon mood"

She really is the most wonderful person in this solar system.

* * *

Echo is back this morning, much earlier than anticipated, but it is not Teddy's handwriting on the envelope that she deposits with me. It is James'.

"Is that for me?" Lily asks, seeing the scrawl that James passes off for writing, and assuming that she's being reprimanded for something yet again.

"Not unless you changed your name to Rose Weasley whilst I wasn't looking" I reply, opening the letter carefully, and hoping upon hope that it doesn't put a damper on my day. "What does my brother want with you?" Lily demands, like a spoiled child, pouting heavily.

"Drama Queen" Hugo insults, under his breath.

A typical Hugo-Lily fight ensues, because 'under your breath' is just not subtle enough to pass by Lily. This, thankfully, takes the spotlight off me and my letter.

'Rosie' it starts, and I don't even register the stupid name, 'Teddy got your letter, and I got your message. We're not sorry, because we're only trying to look out for you, but I can accept that you're an adult, and you probably don't want me interfering in your life, which is fair enough. Still with all my love, despite the fact that your boyfriend is a Malfoy, James. P.S. Mom and Dad say hi, and mom says that if she'd let her brothers rule her life then she wouldn't be married, so do what want. Dad says he hates Malfoy on principal, but you're still his favourite niece. And I'm really going now'

No apology, but admittance that he has been meddling where he shouldn't have been, which is good enough for me. The letter is so much like James that I have to laugh in relief. "Your brother's not ex-communicating me!" I say gleefully to Lily, who doesn't appear to care, but is deep in discussion with Amber Vale, a friend in her year, about lilac robes or something equally inconsequential.

"Okay, so you clearly don't care" I mutter to myself, searching for a bit of spare parchment in my bag. When I find some, I scavenge a quill off Louis, who is scribbling something that looks vaguely Potions-y, and reply to James, 'Has Teddy fallen off the face of the Earth? Love Rosie xxx'

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

* * *

This whole 'different Houses, different tables' thing was all very well and good when I didn't want to associate with anyone other than the Slytherins, but when they don't want to associate with you, and the only person you do want to speak to is on the other side of a rather large hall, it's a bit useless. I'm still sitting at the top of the table, with the other seventh years, but they all seem to have distanced themselves from me, like they're afraid that I might infect them with, huh, I don't know, bubonic plague, or something equally infectious and deadly. I'm itching to yell at them all something along the lines of, "Grow up, you pathetic morons, I haven't changed because of the social status of my girlfriend"

For Merlin's sake, my girlfriend's social status is just as good, if not better, than mine; her dad is the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, her mom is an Internationally acclaimed bestselling author and she's on first name terms with the Minister for Magic. I really don't think that social status gets any higher than that.

But just because she doesn't live in a five storey palace with six hundred acres and a harem of House Elves, and, woe is me, her mother just so happens to be a Muggleborn, it's like the fact that she's beautiful and intelligent and a great Quidditch player doesn't matter. And I really don't see how she can be sitting on the other side of this room _not _blazing with anger about the fact that twenty five percent of this School refuses to realise how amazing she is, because of her genealogy. I'm more than angry enough on her account. I slam down my coffee cup, and if it had not been empty I probably would have stained my robe, because it promptly cracks into dozens of small pieces of china. I, and several other people, stare at the cup's handle, which I am still holding onto, and I swear under my breath. Mariah glares at me as I Banish the broken pieces of cup, unnecessarily reminding me that I've irrevocably humiliated her and that she will continue to hate my guts from now until the end of time.

I'm in the sort of mood where I want to shove the china down her throat.

* * *

"We've really got to stop meeting like this" I comment, blocking DiNozzo's path from the dungeons after Potions, having already sent Al and Scorpius off to lunch together (the conversation is admittedly slightly lukewarm.)

"Miss Weasley, if you don't mind, I would like to leave my classroom before Halloween" Lorento says drily, and I fight the urge to reply sarcastically. "Sorry, sir" I reply, turning my body ever so slightly to let Lorento pass. "Good Quidditch practice last night, DiNozzo" Lorento directs, at my new worst nightmare, before sweeping away in a billowing cloud of black robes.

"Coincidence much?" I say, tilting my head to one side in mock surprise, "I wanted to talk about Quidditch too"

He is not stupid enough to openly point his wand at me, but I see his hand itching towards his pocket.

"Actually, what I really wanted to talk to you about is a very beautiful fourth year Slytherin"

Visible discomfort, wonderful.

"Goes by the name of Isabella, I believe"

Definite apprehension now.

"And well, my little brother, who is frankly very, erm, I think he'd be best described as 'morally flexible'"

It's not so much evil genius, as the good old-fashioned 'get to him through his little sister' scenario. Because even Slytherin big brothers care about their little sisters.

And (I hate saying this) I'd rather Isabella DiNozzo, who I'm sure is your typical evil fourth year Slytherin girl, got hurt as opposed to Scorpius, who I know and care about.

"Keep talking" DiNozzo growls, and I feel a tiny bit bad about so openly using Hugo, who is, after all, still my little brother.

"You know teenage boys DiNozzo" I continue, smiling brightly, "They're just so unaware of other people's feelings. Hugo always seems to be breaking some poor girl's heart" I pause, for dramatic effect, "I'd hate to see that happen to Isabella, wouldn't you?" By this point DiNozzo is grinding his teeth in a really agitated fashion, and I feel that I've pushed him quite far enough for one day. "Give Isabella my love, won't you?" I chime, turning my back on him, leaving him a tiny bit stunned.

* * *

"So" I say slowly, fighting the urge to turn back up the corridor and look for Rose, "How have your first couple of weeks back at school been?"

There is an awkward pause, before Potter replies, "Uh, yeah, it's been fine" There is no elaboration, and I don't push for one. We continue to walk in silence, and I wonder what's so urgent that Rose had to see Lorento right there and then, and, more importantly, why I couldn't wait for her rather than experience this excruciating pain.

"Rosie seems happy" Potter states, and I realise that he's talking to me only once I've determined that there isn't, in fact, another person in our conversation

"Yeah, yeah" I stumble over my words, in an effort to gain back some of the five minutes it took me to recognise that the comment is directed at me. "I think that she, at least, I hope that I, er, that she's happy"

And that, good people, is the dictionary definition of 'tongue-tied'

Potter laughs uneasily and then the conversation lapses back into silence. We have almost completed what has got to be the least comfortable journey in existence, when I finally pin down what I want to say to him.

"The thing is, Potter-"

"Malfoy, what I wanted to say-"

Multiply awkwardness factor by fifteen for speech in sync. We both gesture for the other to continue, and neither of us do. We keep walking, but the silence has resumed, and both Potter and I keep a lid on what we evidently want to say to each other.

I'd never realised before how limited my social interaction skills are.

"After you, Malfoy" Potter mutters, as we approach the doors of the Great Hall.

I can officially report to Rose that I have tried my very best with her cousin, but some people just aren't supposed to be friends. The prospect of conversing with her other eight various relations instils an emotion in me that i expect you'd experience when asked to face a manticore, unarmed. But I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't give up at the first hurdle, and if it takes me the rest of the year to have a decent conversation with Potter, then I suppose I'd best get practising.

* * *

"Hugo!" Lily yells, "Will you please pass me the salt, for the sixty-eighth time?" She clenches her jaw and glares, as Hugo searches with his right hand for the salt shaker, whilst not taking his eyes off Azure O'Toole, a Hufflepuff fifth year, who is his current unlucky victim.

Molly, sitting next to Hugo, and already suffering from Lily's wrath for some reason or another, shoves the salt shaker over to Lily's side of the table, then promptly shoves her head back into her Grade Four Transfiguration textbook.

I figure that since Hugo is clearly the perfect hormonal teenager, I'd better start acting nice now, so that he falls into line with my scheme.

"Hugo?" I say, using my sweetest, most innocent big sister voice, and tapping him on the elbow to attract his attention. "I was thinking, did you want to do a bit of flying practise some time? I know you're always going on about how you never get to fly, maybe you could borrow my Hermes, get a feel for what a real quality broom's like"

So, my 'acting nice' is just major sucking up, but he's a boy, he'll never see through it.

"See, I knew that I actually had a genuinely nice big sister hidden beneath that monster" Hugo replies, not even a tiny bit suspicious, "And I always knew that my real big sister would let me borrow her broom, _and _I always knew that my real big sister had a thing for bad boys, as well"

Please? Scorpius, a bad boy?

Hugo is just hoping for a favourable comparison, and whilst I need his co-operation, I never planned to go to nausea-inducing lengths. Instead, I tactfully change the subject, "Do you know who really fits that description? Phillipe DiNozzo" Hugo nods in agreement, his confused little face showing that he has absolutely no idea where this is going. "And" I continue, "I guess that he could be called good looking, but his sister's the one with the looks in that family, or so I've heard"

My little brother's eyes light up, as he breathes, "Isabella DiNozzo?"

I smile, and turn my head towards the Slytherin Table to where she's sitting, her nonchalant grace adding to her unfair natural beauty.

Poor Hugo.

* * *

Despite the fact that we have some of the most difficult exams known to all humanity coming up at the end of the year McGonagall is not going mental with notes and essays. Actually, she seems rather more laid-back than ever.

"Mr Potter, tell us, if you were an Animagus, what type of animal do you think you'd transform into?" she asks, and Rose's quill drops onto her desk. Reading her face is like reading an open book, it clearly says, 'What _is _the woman doing, we've got mere months until our NEWT's and she's hypothesizing over what animals we'd be if we were Animagi?" She glares at Potter, like somehow it's his fault that her education has been interrupted. He reddens, and replies, "A hare, I think, Professor, but why-"

"Very good, very good, Mr Potter" McGonagall interrupts, pointing her wand at Rose, "Miss Weasley, what about you?"

"A fox" Rose answers instantaneously, but her jaw clenches a little, "I think what Al was going to ask-"

"And Mr. Malfoy, why don't you share with us?"

Rose is about to explode into a million tiny fragments, like my coffee cup this morning, so I answer, "An eagle" quickly, and McGonagall clasps her wrinkled hands in front of her.

"Intriguing" she comments, "Now, I'd like you each to think about that for homework, and write at least three feet on the characteristics of your chosen animal, and the reasoning behind your choice"

The bell rings, just as she says her last words, and a distraught looking Rose flings her textbooks, parchment, quill and ink into her bag, and dashes off to Arithmancy with "See you at dinner, Al, later Scorpius" over her shoulder, as she shoots through the door.

Potter grumbles and rolls his eyes at the space where his cousin had stood seconds before. "How exactly do you live with her? I mean, she's my cousin, and I love her to death, but I'd actually have to kill her"

"I contemplated it for a short while" I reply, not entirely joking, "But she's got that way of just making you love her"

A stunned silence from both of us.

We have just had the first civil Malfoy-Potter exchange in history.

The moment should be recorded for posterity.

* * *

Lily and I are scheming.

I've managed to drag her off Logan for a minute and she is inadvertently helping me with the great 'Revenge on DiNozzo' plan. The fire is crackling and I'm helping her with a Charms essay, which, let's face it, is the only reason that Lily would ever deign to visit me.

"So, how's it going with Logan?" I ask casually, skimming through her parchment and circling the various factual and grammatical errors.

"You just want to tell my brother and Teddy so they'll get off your back and start taking over my life" she accuses, her nose about half an inch from her copy of Witch Weekly.

All hail to Lily Luna Potter, self proclaimed centre of the universe.

Instead of commenting on her disturbing self-centeredness, I try another approach. "Don't you find it really bizarre that girls actually find my brother attractive?"

My reference to Hugo is important enough for Lily to lower her magazine, as she replies, "Now you come to mention it, it is sort of creepy. He's Hugo. Poor delusional girls. I think Azure is his current conquest. Shame that he's actually got a chance, she's a genuinely decent girl" Lily is not only judgemental, she is also a single-handed gossip machine.

"She's quite pretty though, isn't she? And she's a Hufflepuff, so she's obviously really nice"

Yes, a sweeping character generalisation, because I can think of one Slytherin who doesn't fit the 'demented evil lunatic' category, but I don't think that I've ever had to dock points off her or anything, and she has one of those 'nice girl' smiles.

But my train of thought, and therefore my conversation, is veering wildly off topic.

"But, nice girl or not, I don't really think that O'Toole presents much of a challenge to him. He needs someone like, oh, I don't know" I sigh, and gesture wildly, "Isabella DiNozzo, say. She'd be a really tough one to crack"

Lily stares back at me like I'm clinically insane, and at the same time, she's trying to work out my hidden agenda. After a good thirty seconds of maintained eye contact and me smiling particularly sweetly, she shrugs her shoulders and admits defeat. "Fine!" she mutters, "Don't tell me what you're up to, I'll figure it out eventually"

* * *

"Hey" I greet Rose with a kiss, and she tucks her legs under, leaving me space to lounge on the sofa. "Hey" she replies softly, smiling at me, which lights up her face, and with her red hair playing an accurate impression of a halo of fire, she's doing a rather good impression of being an angel. "I think that now would be an amazing time for us to do our Transfiguration homework" she says, and I suffer a quick mental rebuff.

Skip twenty years into the future and Rose and I, looking a little bit older admittedly, are still discussing work, just in our own home, surrounded by kids.

I shiver involuntarily, and my mind rejoins my body. "Do you ever feel like all we do is work?" I ask delicately, lacing my fingers through hers, a gesture which was practically mine and Mariah's 'thing.' The difference being, when I feel Rose's slender, slightly warm fingers interlocked with mine something stirs inside my stomach and I want to hold her and never let her go. "I mean, have we even been on an official date yet?" I continue, and Rose is looking positively bemused, the first time that's happened in her entire life, no doubt.

"I don't think so" she responds slowly, and her expression asks, 'What are you getting at?'

I steam on, figuring that it's probably best just to get it off my chest, "It's just that, and don't think that I don't totally enjoy spending every evening up here with you, because I do, it's just, I don't know, we seem to be slipping into that sickly sweet routine that you were so afraid of; we're practically married!"

Rose laughs lightly at my comment, but is that a hint of hurt that I can detect, lurking in her hazel eyes? "So, no Transfiguration homework then?" she queries, and with a delicate flick of her wrist she Banishes her schoolbag, along with parchment and quills away to her bedroom. The sitting room looks bare and un-homely without all her stuff cluttering it up, and the feeling is only enhanced by the beige and cream of the walls and furniture.

"What exactly does a date comprise of, Scorpius?" Rose asks quizzically.

* * *

When you spend a little time speaking to someone, properly speaking, six years of bitter hatred can be reversed in the blink of an eye, or the swish of a wand. Scorpius has spent most of this year letting me cry on him, and then clearing up after me, I haven't taken the time out to just listen to him.

Utterly selfish, I know. And you have no idea how ashamed I am.

"So that's pretty much my life" Scorpius finishes, having enlightened me as to the fact that he has no sibling, and only one cousin, who he sees very rarely.

"What's his name?" I ask, genuinely intrigued. Scorpius shakes his head and replies, "Victoriana's a girl"

"Victoriana" I repeat, just about getting my tongue around the five syllables.

"Yeah" Scorpius explains, "My aunt thought that plain old Victoria was just too common. I suppose the same way my parents thought a normal name was too common" I'm a little affronted by this, I'd never expect that Scorpius didn't like his name.

"But I love it!" I exclaim defensively, "It's so quirky and unique. I just know that it'd never fit anyone other than you"

"But then, Rosie fits you so perfectly and you detest it!" he counters, which is a completely null point, because my name is Rose, people just insist on lengthening it.

"Your name doesn't change the way I feel about you" I say, "Either of them" Scorpius looks a little flustered by this, which is bizarre, because he hardly ever has eloquencey issues. Then he mutters something unintelligible, something that half sounds like a sneeze. "Sorry, what?" I ask, laughing at him. His pale face flushes prawn pink (the darkest it ever gets) and he shrugs his shoulders. "No matter" he replies, giving me the cool stare that I only ever associate with Malfoy, never with Scorpius. It's my turn to shake my head now, and wonder about the phenomenon that is the male gender.

Scorpius strokes my hair, and tilts my face towards his. "You're the most beautiful girl I've ever met" he says, as his mouth reaches towards mine. I don't give any reply (despite the fact that what he's just said can't be true) because my mouth is preoccupied.

* * *

"We stop here" I declare firmly, although Rose is still making those cute, pleading eyes at me. "No, Rose, I'm being serious" I say, before she can open her mouth to try to argue.

"Fine" she huffs, defeated a little too easily for my liking. "Just tell me why you won't"

I sigh, and grit my teeth. "Because" I explain patiently, "There are far too many good relationships that have entirely failed because after a while they degenerated into nothing but mindless sex. Understand?"

She narrows her eyes at me. "Well, if you won't, at least put your shirt back on. It's like levitating Chocolate Frogs in front of a child and then telling them they're not allowed to eat them" The accompanying pout is conclusive.

"Fine, fine" I concede, starting to re-button my shirt.

"No, don't" Rose exclaims, and at this point, I'm thoroughly confused. "I was just trying to-" she trials off, and gives me a meaningful glance.

I don't think she truly understands the level of self-control that I'm contributing to this relationship, because she's certainly not making my life any easier. "Mixed signals aren't helping, Rosie" I complain, for which I earn a shove to the shoulder.

"You're not allowed to call me Rosie" she says, attempting an angry voice, "At least, not at the moment"

I don't understand why all of a sudden she's so eager for this relationship to become more than what it already is. Clearly, I was under the mistaken impression that we were both satisfied.

"Rose, I'm saying this because I care about you, okay? I do not want to sleep with you. Harsh as that may sound, it's the truth. Because, to be honest with you, for the past couple of years I've been a big fan of fantastic but meaningless sex, and the attraction has worn off. If it happens between us, it'll happen when you're not so" I choose my words very carefully, "So actively searching for it"

There is a slight pause, in which I have the most horrible feeling that she's going to burst into tears and run out of the room, but then she breathes and replies, "I get it"

Another slight pause.

"But if you won't 'sleep with me' sleep with me, can we at least sleep together?"

It seems like a fair compromise. Within about ten minutes we're both fast asleep, wrapped in each other's arms.

**AND: No offense to any Victoria's reading this, I personally love the name and have a very good friend with said name. But, I thought, you know, Malfoy's aunt would probably be an uber-snob. And I actually quite like the name Victoriana as well. Anyway...I'm rambling.**


	24. Of Insinuations and Balls

**A/N: This is like three chapters in 5 days or so, I'm fairly impressed with myself. Hopefully you will be to. And just a warning, Rose is being wierd this chapter, sort of whiny and vaguely childish. I don't like it, Scorpius doesnt like it, I frankly don't think that anybody likes it. But, I think we should give the girl a break. Her world has been turned upside down in the past couple of weeks, it's bound to make a girl act a little strange. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: There's so mucj wrong in comparing me to JK. For starters, she's a genius, and I'm very far from that.  
**

It's sort of disturbing to wake up in the middle of the night to find somebody watching you sleep.

Even when that somebody happens to be your boyfriend.

"What are you doing?" I ask groggily, my voice thick with sleep.

"Ssh" Scorpius soothes, "You rolled over and woke me up, so I was just appreciating your beauty. Go back to sleep"

Slightly surreal, and one of those moments that you think you imagined when your rationality has kicked in, usually after about half seven in the morning.

But, I do as I'm told which is promptly lay my head back on the pillow, wrap Scorpius' arms a little tighter around me and drift back off to sleep. More naturally than last night, which was more like being hit over the head with a broomstick and being knocked out.

When the sun rises, and it's time to get up for real, I stretch, like I usually do, yawn, and realise that Scorpius is not lying next to me like he was at three this morning, or whatever insane hour it was that I was up earlier.

In fact, he's not in the room at all.

I slip out of his bed, still fully dressed, and wander through his door. Scorpius is currently engaged in an 'emotive' conversation with none other than everybody's favourite Quidditch Captain, though they both look over at me when I close Scorpius' bedroom door less than discreetly.

"I said that I didn't want to play DiNozzo, I've made my mind up" Scorpius states calmly, and though DiNozzo is too much of a Slytherin to give any outward sign of distress both Scorpius and I know exactly what he's feeling; Scorpius because he'd used to the whole 'repressed emotions' thing that goes on with pretty much everybody in that House, and me because I'm the one posing a little ultimatum of my own.

"I'm going to speak to Lorento" DiNozzo threatens, getting up. He's practically made it to the Portrait Hole, without incident, when he turns back and says, "Oh, and good job, Malfoy" winking at me.

"Expelliarmus" I yell, pointing my wand, not at DiNozzo, but at Scorpius, whose knuckles have turned white, since he's been gripping his wand so tightly. His wand flies out of his hand, and I grab it, as DiNozzo leaves with a chuckle.

"He's not worth it" I say soothingly, "He's really not worth it, Scorpius"

There really is something wrong with the vast majority of that House.

* * *

"You really didn't have to do that Rose" I state, my teeth gritted and my entire body shaking due to extreme anger.

"Yes, I did" she counters stubbornly, "You were about to Avada Kedavra him, and as much as I detest the guy, that's an Unforgivable, and how exactly would I cope with you in Azkaban?"

She hands me back my wand, keeping hers in her hand, like she's the one that I'm trying to hurt.

"I wasn't going to-" I start, looking at the ground.

"Liar" Rose cuts in, her eyes boring into me, "It was as plain as the nose on your face, Scorpius. You wanted to kill him"

I hate this whole, reading my eyes, knowing my own thoughts better than I do thing that Rose has got going on.

I admit defeat.

"Of course I bloody well wanted to kill him, Rosie; he was insinuating stuff about you that I really don't want insinuating"

Rose shakes her head, tuts, and folds her arms over her chest, which I've come to recognise as the universal symbol for a pissed off woman. "Well, you've changed you tune, haven't you?" she asks acidly, "A couple of weeks ago you were all for telling the entire school that you were sleeping with me, and now you want them to believe the exact opposite?"

Is she forgetting the events of the intervening two weeks or so, when we not only realised that we didn't hate each other's guts, but also discovered that we liked one another and started a relationship?

"That was then, Rose, this is now. And I already got you into enough trouble over that, so I'm trying to keep you out of it now, okay?" I reply, realising that any chance of today being a nice day has once again been ruined by DiNozzo.

"And I appreciate it, honestly" Rose says, in complete earnest, "But Scorpius, I'm eighteen years old, I'm an adult and I can deal with DiNozzo myself"

"You shouldn't have to look after yourself" I moan, willing her to see that this is part of the 'boyfriend' package, "Besides, your cousin would curse me from here until the end of eternity if I ever let anything or anyone hurt you"

Rose rolls her eyes, and stamps a foot on the ground like a petulant child. "I hate my cousins" she screams.

I wouldn't be surprised if I've shattered an eardrum.

* * *

"Come down to breakfast" Scorpius coaxes, his eyes all pleading. I shake my head resolutely and stare at a point on the wall, behind Scorpius' head.

"Not until you tell me which one" I state stubbornly, folding my arms more tightly over my chest, but not moving my eyes at all.

"How many times?" he exclaims, throwing his hands into the air in desperation. "It doesn't matter! Forget I mentioned it!"

Then, suddenly, Scorpius changes tactic.

"Wasn't it you claiming to be an adult? Because, from where I'm standing this is a childish temper tantrum"

This offends me greatly, because as a child I never threw tantrums and I never acted out. Even so, I don't budge.

"For Merlin's sake" Scorpius' voice is exasperated, to say the very least, "It was Louis, okay? As in, Seeker on the Quidditch Team, gentle spoken Louis"

Whoa.

Now that actually does come as a surprise.

"Louis?" I ask incredulously, as I stand up sharply. "Louis William Weasley, only son of Bill and Fleur Weasley, brother to Victoire and Dominique Weasley, and my cousin, the one who's a year younger than me?"

Scorpius exhales strongly, his patience clearly being tested.

"Yes, the one and the same"

"You mean" I start again, "Louis who actually couldn't hurt a-"

"Merlin, Rose! Yes! Yes! Yes, yes, yes. That Louis. Now drop it"

My face and my heart fall as I realise that I have majorly irritated Scorpius, who isn't having the best of days anyway.

"So" I ask timidly, "I can't blow James up?" Even if Scorpius says no, I'll do it anyway, for the sheer fun of it.

"Afraid not" Scorpius admits, rapping the face of his watch and shooing me away to the bathroom with his hands. "And don't take all day either" he calls loudly after me, "I want to eat sometime soon"

What is it with men and their stomachs? Scorpius needs feeding practically hourly to keep him from moaning.

I'm starting to think that Grandma Molly really was onto something when she suggested that I should get a dog instead of a boyfriend; at least you can train a dog to sit on command.

* * *

"How do I look?" Rose asks on exiting the bathroom a million hours later, and twirling in the spot for me.

"Beautiful, as usual" I reply slightly absent mindedly, gesturing impatiently at the Portrait Hole.

"But what about my eyes?" Rose persists, shouldering her schoolbag, and then looking up at me with said eyes.

"Hazel with amber flecks" I say, without paying much notice to her.

She huffs, and adds, "Nothing unusual about them?"

I turn back to her and gaze down at her face, into her eyes.

"They're still yours, and you're still beautiful" I conclude.

Rose's jaw clenches, in that 'I'm going to jinx you' manner, but try as I might, I can't see why exactly.

"The eyeliner, Scorpius!" Rose exclaims, pointing at her left eye agitatedly, "Birthday present from Victoire which came yesterday?"

Now that she's said it I do notice a faint gold line around her eyes. "Oh, yeah" I say hurriedly, "It's really nice"

I start to make my way to the Portrait Hole, hoping upon hope that I'll finally be able to eat some breakfast, but when I turn my head, anticipating that Rose is following me, she is still rooted to the floor.

"Nice!" she spits, "Nice? Victoire sends me this really amazing eyeliner that you don't even notice at first, and now all you've got to say is 'nice'?"

I think that my jaw drops.

"Rosie, it's make up! I'm sorry I didn't notice, but it's not really the type of thing that guys take any notice of" I return, clearly the only rational person in the room.

"But you didn't notice that my eyes had changed" Rose whines, fiddling with a strand of her hair, a sure fire sign that she's upset.

"You didn't need to change them" I say softly, "All this Muggle stuff is worthless, it'll never be able to improve on perfection"

Rose's bottom lip quivers, and once more I'm gripped by the fear that she's going to burst into tears, but though her eyes sparkle a little, no tear fall.

"Oh, Scorpius" she breathes, "That's the nicest thing that anyone's ever said to me"

My father has, I hate to admit, taught me one useful thing; emotional women just need to be told that they're perfect.

* * *

"What time do you call this?" Lily asks, reaching over Al's breakfast plate and tapping the face of the battered watch that had once belonged to Uncle Harry.

"I make it eight thirty eight a.m. precisely" I reply, checking my own watch. Lily purses her lips, before continuing to munch on muesli. I begin to waffle down toast, burning my tongue on the huge gulps of coffee I'm taking between bites.

"You realise" Lily quips, putting her spoon down, "That if you and Master Malfoy attended breakfast at a reasonable hour, like the rest of the school, you'd be able to eat without risk of choking"

"Everyone hates a smart-ass, Lil" Hugo returns, leaving me free to polish off my toast.

"Gives me and Scorpius some well deserved alone time, which we don't really get all that often" I explain, using my napkin to wipe the crumbs off my fingers.

Lily's scandalised look says _quite _enough.

"I don't think Rose meant that exactly, Lily" Louis says, his haunting eyes flicking from Lily to I, then back to Lily again.

A gush of love for Louis is quickly extinguished by my memory of Scorpius' conversation this morning, so I just nod weakly at him, before turning my attention to my little brother.

"So" I say, trying to straighten up the tie that he's clearly put on in the dark. He squirms under my grasp, and pries my fingers away. "Not wanting to sound pushy or anything" I continue, playing with a spoon in what I hope is a casual manner, "But there's another Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon and Isabella DiNozzo really would be quite an accomplishment"

I hate that I have to speak about a fellow girl in such a chauvinistic tone, but the fact is that I've got to get back at her snake of a brother.

"Get to the point, Rosie" Hugo demands, ruffling his hair, trying to achieve the James Potter 'I just rolled out of bed look'. I grit my teeth and steel myself.

"I'm just saying, she's a very attractive girl, you're a very attractive guy" Hugo beams at this, as I steam on, "And I just think that it'd be good exercise for your 'technique' to go for someone a little more demanding"

And then, because I'm a horrible, manipulative big sister, I add, "Besides, James would never say no"

* * *

"Do you know what this Halloween is?" Rose asks me, as we walk on our way to Potions, Potter following along behind us at a discreet distance.

I search my memory, trying to think whether the 31st of October has any more significance than any other in my life. "I give up" I admit, as we clatter down the stone steps, towards the dungeons. "What's so special about this Halloween?"

"The thirty-fifth anniversary of 'The Troll Incident'" Rose replies excitedly, her cheeks all flushed.

My blank expression doesn't deter her at all.

"So, I was thinking, this school really needs an annual ball. And I'd like it to be the thing that they remember me for. Because, like you were saying the other night, we haven't been on an official date yet, and somehow Hogsmeade just doesn't seem to count, and anyway, everyone needs an excuse to dress up, or, at least, the girls do, I'm sure guys would need coercing into dress robes, but that shouldn't be too difficult" Rose takes a long deep breath after her marathon explaining session, and beams at me. "So, what do you think?"

"I have two questions" I start, surprising even myself that I've managed to understand any of her outpour of words, "Firstly, how exactly are you going to persuade McGonagall that a Halloween Ball is a good idea, and secondly, what in Wizardkind's name is 'The Troll Incident'?"

Rose stops walking very abruptly. "What do you mean? Everybody knows what 'The Troll Incident' is. It's practically legend."

I shrug my shoulders. "Not to me, it's not"

She shakes her head disbelievingly and asks, "My dad and Harry saving my mom from a troll in the girl's bathroom when they were like eleven? How do you not know that?"

Rose seems to have been taking it for granted that I was raised on the same stories as she was, so whilst she evidently knows of this 'Troll Incident', it's not something that my parents ever bothered to tell me about.

And, she still hasn't answered exactly how she thinks she's going to get McGonagall to agree with this Ball proposition of hers.

What is it with girls and Balls, anyway?

* * *

I now officially have a checklist, devised to make DiNozzo have Scorpius back on the Team. I know he's said that he doesn't want to, but he's just being stubborn. And, if that fails, it should cause maximum humiliation.

Having said that, why on Earth should it be humiliating for his little sister to be seen alongside my little brother? I happen to think that they'd make a stunning couple.

Anyway, the list.

Yes, well, the plan sort of all hinges on this Halloween Ball idea of mine, considering that Quidditch matches don't start until Mid-November and Slytherin's first one (against Ravenclaw) is fairly late. So, if I can get Isabella to go to my Ball with Hugo, and get everyone to see that the school's most eligible Pureblood witch is there with a mere half-blood Weasley, then hopefully DiNozzo will give in to my superior genius and let Scorpius play (with no hard feeling, of course.)

Naturally, I haven't explained my brilliant plan to Scorpius, because he'd only complain that he doesn't want to play, and that I'm degrading myself by stooping to DiNozzo's level, but if I get to go to a Ball, then I'm happy.

"What are you all quiet and contemplative over?" Freddie asks at lunch.

"Quidditch" I reply, entirely truthfully, and Freddie beams back at me.

"I've been working really hard on our tactical game since last week, so I think we'll be having a fairly grounded session tonight, except to practise some of the new plays, is that okay?"

Despite all of Freddie's enthusiasm and flair for the game he too appears to have succumbed to the 'Hugo Weasley Disorder' i.e. he thinks he'll never be as good as James.

Or, St. James, as I like to call him.

"I love tactics, Freddie" I say, as he attempts to hide this insecurity of his.

Why is it that all the male people in my family feel like they've got to live up to James in some way, shape or form?

Oh, yes, I remember now.

It's because he can be a severely arrogant prat, far too full of his own self importance sometimes.

No wonder Lily is self-absorbed.

* * *

"I have Quidditch practice in ten, I've got to run" Rose explains, as she frantically dashes between her bedroom and the sitting room.

This, for me, explains the haste, but not why she is insistent on running backwards and forwards, giving me a severe headache.

"It's just" she continues, "I'm seeing McGonagall before class tomorrow, to show her my proposal for this Ball, and I want everything to be absolutely perfect"

Then, as abruptly as if I'd put an Impediment Jinx on her, she stops, stock-still in the middle of the doorway.

But only for two seconds.

"What am I doing?" she wails, whipping her wand from her robe, "I'm running around like, Merlin knows what, like a Muggle, and my wand's here"

I had been wondering how long it was going to take her. I chuckle softly at her, which is a bad move.

"Do not laugh at me, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy! Do you have any idea how stressful it is trying to organise a Ball? No, I don't think you do, because you haven't helped one bit"

"I do remember offering" I interrupt meekly, which Rose dismisses with a flick of her hair.

"I meant useful help, what would you know about planning a Ball?"

What is it that Muggles say?

Oh, yeah right. You're damned if you do, you're damned if you don't.

I feel very much like this is an appropriate statement right now.

Since Rose has stopped being so flustered she's become a good deal more rational, which is no bad thing.

"Do you want to come and watch our practice?" she asks, thoughtfully.

"I thought Freddie was insistent on closed practices?" I reply, remembering poor Lassiter, "And anyway, I don't think he'd be too impressed if you brought me to an important tactics session, do you?"

As Rose heads off to get her broom, so that she can finally leave, there seems to be an odd sort of smile on her face, the sort of smile that says, 'If Scorpius doesn't want to see our practice, that suggests that he's still considering rejoining his team, and would never do anything so cheap as to watch us play and report back to DiNozzo"

Which, like all aspects of the female mind, is contradictory and confusing all at once.


	25. Of Shears and Sulks

**A/N: Several things to say to people: This is a bit shorter than the last couple of chapters, which is because of my exams this weak, which have naturally mentally drained me. And, I have not used a translation machine (You will understand when you read the part to which I'm referring to) and, although my French should not be rusty, seeing as how I took an exam in it on Tuesday, I am very sorry if anyone finds any gramatical inaccuracies in it, (Louis is not lying when he says that it is a rough translation, it is VERY rough.) And I think that's all I wanted to say. Except for the fact that I'm so happy that people haven't given up on me, despite the fact that I started this practically a year ago, and it's still not finished, and that you all still take time out to review. I really appreciate it. So, read!**

**Disclaimer: I only have the vaguest idea who the publisher is (Bloomsbury, in Britain at least, I think), and I'm sure that's one of those all important things that the real author remembers.  
**

"And that's why I consider Halloween an intrinsic part of the history of this school, therefore, now, with me as Head Girl, would be an ideal time to instigate a new tradition"

I have just delivered my perfectly crafted 'Why you should allow me to host a Halloween Ball' speech, and there isn't much that I can do, other than show her the financial detailing (let it never be said that Rose Weasley can't handle money) and the list of potential bands (if I'm doing organisation, I'm doing it properly.) Yet, it is still with bated breath that I watch McGonagall from the other side of her desk.

"Miss Weasley, lovely as the idea is, we already have a Feast to commemorate the holiday" she replies, after consideration.

This, I had been expecting.

"But, Professor" I argue, in my most reverent and respectful tone, "The Feast is a tribute to Halloween itself. What I'm proposing is a celebration of the event that took place thirty five years ago, the event that ensured that my mother could live to see adulthood, and event which essentially allowed me to be born"

I _did _say that I'd prepared well.

McGonagall looks over her shoulder, towards Dumbledore's portrait. His half-moon glasses are slipping down his nose as, as he unsuccessfully pretends to snore. Because he definitely wasn't asleep a minute ago. "I sometimes wonder who's running this school" McGonagall mutters to herself, and I have to admit that I've asked myself the same question a fair few times.

"Miss Weasley, I'd like you to carry out a survey. Take a random cross-section of the school's demographic and ask them how they feel about the proposed Ball. With the results of the survey, I shall make up my mind"

So, that simple 'yes' or 'no' that I was hoping for hasn't entirely manifested itself, but then, I never expected this to be easy.

As I leave the Headmistress' office my head is spinning with figures; today is Thursday 25th September, which means that Halloween is in precisely five weeks and one day, on a Friday. This leaves me with thirty six days in which to conduct this survey, get McGonagall's permission and sort out ten million other things.

It is no wonder that by the time that I sit down to eat breakfast I can feel a headache coming on.

"Broom?" Hugo queries, through a mouthful of cornflakes, and I am reminded that this whole thing is to get back at DiNozzo.

The thought gives me a little focus, and makes the whole prospect a little less daunting.

Not that it could have gotten any more daunting.

* * *

"How did it go?" I ask Rose, as we attempt to tend to our Devil's Snare without being asphyxiated by it.

"Well" Rose replies, holding her wand at the base of the plant and saying 'Lumos', just to make my life a little easier, "She didn't flat out say no, which has got to be good"

But then that also means that she didn't flat out say 'yes', which means that Rose is going to spend lots of time stressing over this.

It is not a prospect that I greatly look forward to.

"How do you feel about the idea?" she asks casually, handing me a pair of shears.

"Never really been to one" I reply, which visibly shocks Rose, "I mean, all the stupid ones that my parents attend regularly are majorly boring, and besides, I never get invited. And since we've never had one here-"

Rose is scribbling furiously on a scrap of parchment, and it doesn't register in my brain that she's put her wand down.

At least, not until the shears that I'm holding are yanked away by the spiteful plant, and my arm only just escapes the same dreadful fate.

"Oops, sorry" Rose apologises absent-mindedly, hurriedly stuffing the parchment she'd been writing on inside her robe pocket.

"Full concentration please, Rosie" Longbottom chimes, as he wanders round the Greenhouse, watching everybody work.

"How come he doesn't get reprimanded for calling you Rosie?" I demand, puzzling over how to get my shears back.

"Because" Rose explains, jabbing her wand at the plant and causing it to freeze, leaving me time to retrieve my shears, "Neville has known me since before I was born. And I'm sure I did look like the cute 'Rosie' type back then. But, you know what? I'm not even bothered anymore"

Rose goes back to her original piece of parchment, the one on which she was making notes about our Herbology assignment, and I sneak peaks at her, between cutting and discarding unhealthy shoots. Her face is so ambiguous; it's being lit up by the warm autumn sun trickling in through the glass walls, but at the same time it looks dark, like there's a rain cloud hanging over her. I can only assume that the rain cloud is this Ball idea of hers.

It's ridiculous; she's putting more pressure than necessary on herself , and I can't understand for the life of me why.

* * *

'_Ma chère Victoire' _I scribble, my handwriting automatically taking on the elegant cursive I use whenever I write in French, '_J'ai beaucoup que je voudrais te dire. Est-ce que nous pouvons avoir un rendez-vous très bientôt? Grosses bises, Rose_'

I stow the letter in my school bag, my mind now significantly more calm at the prospect of a chat with Victoire.

"What was that?" Lily asks, eyeing me innocently.

"A letter" I reply, honestly enough, not that I have anything to hide.

"To who?" Lily demands, like there might be some secret guy in my life. (I've already had two love interests in a month, a third would be ridiculously far-fetched)

"It was to Victoire" I explain, and at the name Lily's face lights up.

"Send her my love" she says, and I nod, turning back to my salad.

"Now!"

Lily bangs her fork on the table, the picture of a two year old.

"Merlin" I exclaim, having not realised quite how literal Lily was being. I hastily retrieve the parchment, and add, '_Lily t'envoie son amour_'

I've barely put my quill down when Lily snatches the parchment off the table in front of me, and shoves it in front of Louis' nose.

"Translate" she orders, at which Louis looks up, scans the piece of parchment and says, "Put very loosely, it reads, '_My dear Victoire, I've got loads I want to say to you. Can we meet up real soon? Loads of love, Rose_. _Lily sends her love_'"

Lily looks suspiciously over at me, "What do you need to talk to Vic about, and how come you can't discuss it with me?"

The following pout is unnecessary.

"Because" I respond simply, "I don't think that you're mature enough to be of any help to me"

At this, Lily throws a complete strop, illustrating my point entirely.

Halfway through, I get bored.

"Grow up, Lily" I snap, "That's never been cute, and I find it frankly irritating now"

Lily looks like a frightened deer, as I rise from the table, taking back my private letter to Victoire from Louis.

"I don't know whether you got this before, but yes, my boyfriend is a Malfoy, and yes, I've changed. But, guess what? It's got nothing to do with any of you"

And that is why it is not sensible to bottle up emotions inside of you, because then you end up having a go at people you're not really angry at (although, I have been meaning to pull Lily up on that temper tantrum/spoilt princess thing for a while now.)

"I think I like the new Rose" Al comments, whilst I am still within hearing range.

I'm sure I say daily how much I hate my cousins, but I really don't mean it when it comes to Al.

* * *

"Mr Malfoy? A word please?"

My Defence Against the Dark Arts homework has been handed in, and I paid perfect attention in class today, so I have no idea why exactly I am being summoned to Thomas' desk.

I smile at Rose, and tell her to let Binns know that I'm probably going to be late for History of Magic (not that he'll notice my absence at all.)

"Yes, sir" I reply, approaching the desk, and noticing the photograph of a young red-headed, freckly witch, playing with gnomes in a garden.

Rose looks cute as a little girl, I can definitely see why people keep calling her Rosie.

"Did you know that Rosie's my god-daughter?" Thomas queries, gesturing the seat opposite him.

I shake my head, and continue to look at the photo. Rose's bright pink robes clash horribly with her hair, but I suppose that all little girls love pink, regardless of their hair colour.

Thomas spots my fascination with the photo, and explains, "That was taken in her Grandma Molly's back garden when she was four. She liked flowers and nature then; she was absolutely convinced that Herbology would be the only subject she would like at Hogwarts, and of course, Neville encouraged her. And then she wanted to be a Healer, and then-" Thomas suddenly breaks off, realising that he is over-sharing, "But that's not the point, Mr. Malfoy. Now, I happen to know that you and my god-daughter are-" Here, he coughs, and I'm not sure whether it's deliberate or not, but then he continues, "-an item. And although I know that she hates her birthday more that anything else in the world, I know that you, of course, have got her a present that she'll treasure just so long as she treasures you"

The blank look on my face is more expressive than words, evidently.

"Mr. Malfoy, Rose's birthday is the 19th September, or, in other words, six days ago"

"I know that, sir" I cut in quickly, not wanting him to have the same opinion of me as Potter, "It's just that Rose is a difficult girl to buy for, and I'm still having a little trouble finding her the perfect gift"

Thomas gets up from his seat, indicating the gaggle of first years congregating around his classroom door.

"I have no doubt that you'll be very successful, Mr. Malfoy. Now, we're both late for class"

As I struggle through the little Slytherins and Ravenclaws who are waiting for their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, a thought dawns upon me; that's another over protective male presence in the Castle for Rose and I to contend with.

And now I have to find a perfect belated birthday present.

Could my life get any better?

* * *

"Where have you been, mister?" I demand, as Scorpius slips into the seat next to me, about ten minutes after the official start of the lesson.

"You never told me that Thomas is your god-father" he replies, sounding accusatory.

I grimace slightly and cross my fingers, "He didn't show you that photo, did he?"

He nods, and before he can add anything else, I steam on, "Merlin! Well, at least that's the mandatory 'photo-of-your-girlfriend-wearing-nothing-at-all' bit out of the way"

Scorpius' face screws up in confusion, as he asks, "What are you talking about? I saw that photo he has of you on his desk. The one with the gnomes?"

His face lights up, mine falls simultaneously.

"Oh, he showed you _that _photo" I say weakly, whilst Scorpius is practically bubbling over with laughter beside me.

"Thomas has a photo of you, naked?" he demands, whilst I fiddle awkwardly with my quill.

"It was taken whilst I was in the bath" I defend, "And I was only about two"

Scorpius is trying very hard to contain his laughter, which, to be completely honest, isn't making me feel any better. "I have so got to see that photo" he sniggers, shielding his mouth with his blank parchment.

"You're not copying my notes on the sixteenth Merpeople- Wizard Convention of 1763, not if you don't stop snickering"

"I'm sorry to break up the friendly banter" Mercy Adams, a particularly obnoxious Slytherin, who was _not _named appropriately, cuts in, ruining what was a perfectly light hearted quarrel, "But some people in this room are actually here to learn. And I really don't appreciate having to listen to your vomit worthy conversation"

Miss Self Righteous turns back to face the blackboard, her button nose thrust into the air. I roll my eyes sarcastically at the back of her head, and pinch Scorpius' arm.

"What was that for?" he sulks, having managed to actually take down some notes by this point.

"Firstly" I start, "For disturbing the whole class, especially those who don't have the mental capacity to listen to friendly banter and filter it out from the information of a centuries old ghost. And secondly, for laughing at me"

Scorpius chews his lip thoughtfully and explains, "It wasn't you that I was laughing at. It was the, erm, metaphysical concept of the, uh, existence of such a-"

I think the look on my face pretty much sums Scorpius' words up; Total Trash.

The amazing thing is, despite the fact that I've spent the greater part of an hour long lesson engaged in conversation with Scorpius, Binns is entirely oblivious.

Oh, the advantages of having a ghost for a teacher!

* * *

"Potter, I need your help"

Mini-Potter's red hair, so much like her cousin's, is flipped over her shoulder as she looks up at me.

"It's Lily, darling" she replies, throwing her quill down.

I must say, I'm really quite surprised to have found her in the library, it was _not _the first place that I looked for her.

"Walk with me, Scorpius" she beckons, shutting her Divination textbook and putting it in her bag.

I'm on the verge of snapping back, "It's Malfoy," but then I consider that I am, after all, asking for her help, and that she's never really done anything all that bad to me, so I let it drop.

"Now, what's the problem?" she asks, as I follow her out of the library and through the corridors.

"If Rose could get anything in the world, money no object, what would she want?" I figure that being a girl, and a close relation of Rose's, Mini-Potter will instinctively know what I should get Rose.

She looks down at the floor as she walks, her forehead crinkled in concentration. "It's not like Rose is fussy" she eventually replies, "She's just quite specific. She likes all the regular girly things: chocolate, perfume, flowers-"

"No" I cut in abruptly, "I don't want anything regular. It has to be extraordinary"

Mini-Potter huffs, like it's some big chore that I've given her, as opposed to asking a little favour. "I understand that you want to get something special Scorpius, considering that it's late and all, but really, short of an engagement ring, there really is nothing else"

My head snaps round to look at her, my eyes wide.

Mini-Potter claps her hand over her mouth. "What? No! Really? You're going-"

"Are you kidding me?" Once again I find myself interrupting her, "We've been dating for all of a fortnight. I am not going to propose to your cousin!"

The light in Mini-Potter's eyes is extinguished, and her face falls. "Oh"

That's it, all she has to say is, "Oh"

"Well, thanks for your help anyway" I say listlessly to Mini-Potter, dejected.

Despite the fact that I have asked her, I am still seriously confused as to what to get Rose. I return to the sitting room to find Rose , spark out, on the sofa, even though it is seven thirty in the evening. On the coffee table beside her is a neat pile of essays and textbooks, next to which is another roll of parchment, full of scribblings and figures. Rose sighs in her sleep, and I curse this 'Ball' idea of hers, because it's exhausting her. Being careful not to wake her up, I scoop my beautiful girlfriend up in my arms and take her into her bedroom.

She murmurs, in her sleep, "Scorpius"

I smile.


	26. Of Showers and Lectures

**A/N: I'm back again! (you all just want to get rid of me by this point, don't you?) And, I really think that I should dedicate this chapter to RianneX because it was her who told me all about roses, and their symbolism. So, this one's just for you!**

**And to everyobdy else, who hasn't given me helpful hints, I suppose I like you guys as well, as long as you keep reviewing. **

**Disclaimer: Hum di hum. Not mine.  
**

I feel greatly refreshed and awake in the morning, and, even though it's an amazing feeling, I'm a little confused. The last thing that I remember about yesterday evening is trying to figure out exactly how I should present my survey findings to McGonagall: flow chart, pie chart, straight essay, what?

And then, in no time at all, I'm waking up in my bedroom, feeling all better.

But, at the same time, I have this gut feeling that something is not exactly right. And I realise exactly why when I twist my left wrist towards myself and read the face.

Eleven thirty five.

And this is not the weekend, unless life just fast-forwarded by a day.

I scramble around a lot, and realise that this is about the fiftieth time this month that I've slept in my school uniform.

"Jeez, I need a shower!" I exclaim to no-body in particular. There are two different Roses sitting on my shoulders; the one on the right has a halo and a pretty white dress, and she is whispering, "No, Rose, you can't, you must get to History of Magic" The one on my left, unsurprisingly, has horns and a forked tail, and she's hissing, "Rose you need to take a shower! Who cares about History of Magic?"

The two little Roses have a battle, until the one on the left Avada's the one on the right to oblivion.

So, I step into a long, scalding hot shower, complete with strawberry and coconut body wash and cinnamon and nutmeg shampoo. Every time I wash my hair (Yes, I do shower more than once a week, just to reassure you, I don't make a big deal about it, is all) I end up smelling like an explosion in a garden/ grocery store.

But I like it.

By the time that I leave the bathroom, all squeaky clean and glowing, it's pretty much midday. And although I can dry my devilishly thick curly hair in double quick time with a simple Wind Charm, I like the nostalgia of drying it the Muggle way, with a towel, because it reminds me of all the nights that I used to sit on my mom's knee, by the fire in the living room, having tales told of her adventures at school, whilst towelling my hair dry.

"You look happy" Scorpius' voice at my doorway scares me pretty much senseless.

"Merlin, Scorpius! Was that entirely necessary?"

"Yes" Scorpius smirks deliciously, still hovering on the threshold.

"Come in, you're making my room look messy, standing there in the doorway"

I hope it says something about my self-confidence that I can sit in just my robe, facing the most beautiful boy that has ever graced the face of the planet.

* * *

"That's a beautiful colour" I comment, sliding my fingers down Rose's cornflower blue robe.

A slight flush crosses Rose's cheeks, but that's just as likely because she's just got out of the shower.

Or, on the other hand, it could be because of the physical contact.

"It compliments your eyes, and your skin, and your hair, and everything really"

Rose smiles brightly, "Blue is one of those colours that I can get away with. Being a red-head, there's not many of those colours around"

And there is really no doubting that she looks stunning at this precise moment in time.

"They look familiar" I say, the crest on the right hand side jogging something in my memory.

Rose's smile widens, "They're from Beauxbatons."

Of course!

"Yeah, they're Aunt Fleur's old robes. She gave them to Victoire when she started here, to remind her of her heritage, and Victoire gave them to me at the beginning of this year, to say well done for the whole 'Head Girl' thing. But they're silk, and I don't really go in for the whole silk thing, so I've been using them as a dressing robe. I think they're really nice" she finishes simply, and I agree.

The expression on Rose's face suddenly changes dramatically. "Why didn't you wake me up?" she demands, pointing at her watch.

"I thought you could do with the sleep" I explain, feeling hurt, "You looked absolutely exhausted and I didn't have the heart to wake you up at half eight this morning, not with you looking so peaceful"

Rose chuckles slightly, "I never thought I'd see the day that Scorpius Malfoy would be scared of disturbing Rose Weasley"

I plant a tiny kiss on the crook between Rose's shoulder and neck.

"Don't do that" she complains, biting her bottom lip, "Scorpius, you're making me all dizzy"

But I take the fact that she doesn't physically push me away as license to continue.

"I've got something to show you" I whisper in Rose's ear, having made my way up from her neck. I take her by the hand, pull her up off her bed, and lead her through her doorway.

"I don't see anything different" she says, confused, as I sit her down on the sofa.

"Patience is a virtue" I scold, tapping my wand on the empty glass vase on the mantelpiece, lifting my Disillusionment Charm. Where before there had been nothing, there is now a single white rose, symbolic of young love, perfect in form. Rose gasps when she sees it, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Scorpius" she breathes, "That's the most beautiful rose I've ever seen in my life"

* * *

"It's not just any rose" Scorpius says, looking down at my astonished form, having placed the rose and vase on the table directly in front of me, "It's an Eternal Rose"

My breath catches in my throat, and my heart skips several beats.

"No" I whisper, reaching out and feeling the smooth, perfectly formed petals, "It can't be"

Scorpius nods his head, and the feeling in my stomach tells me that he's being truthful.

I can't get any more shocked.

"But they're so rare. And so expensive!" I exclaim, not able to move my eyes away from the work of beauty on the coffee table.

"Sorry it's a week late" Scorpius apologises, leaning down so that his eyes are level with mine, "I sort of only decided to get you it last night, and I had to call in a couple of favours to get it here for you today"

I have no doubt that's the truth. Those things aren't just rare. They're RARE. In capital letters. With wand sparks around it.

I still can't believe that Scorpius bought me an Eternal Rose. It's on a par with buying a house together, or having children.

"Rosie?" Scorpius asks, dragging me back to rationality, "I said, do you like it?"

I look at him like he is a demented person.

"Do I like it?" I repeat, the tone in my voice demonstrating precisely how demented he is, "Scorpius, it's the most amazing thing that I will ever receive in my life. Ever. Understand?"

Scorpius lets out a sigh of relief, and grins, "Thank Merlin. I was so worried you'd hate it"

My mind has gone again, I'm actually flying through the galaxy (figuratively speaking) because I am the bonafide owner of an Eternal Rose.

"How?" I ask, managing to shift my eyes for about thirty milliseconds from my present to Scorpius.

"It was no problem" he insists, running a hand through my freshly washed curls, "I Flooed my mom last night, after I put my princess to bed of course, and she knew exactly where to get it from, I think she's been waiting for my dad to get her one all her life. So, really, it's her you should be thanking"

The fact that Astoria Malfoy helped her son pick out an Eternal Rose to give to a Weasley girl is a little more than mind-blowing. Maybe the woman isn't a complete Harpy after all.

"I have to say thank you" I babble, feeling like I have a massive debt of gratitude to Mrs. Malfoy (I do!)

"I already let her know" Scorpius replies, "She says 'it's fine, she's happy to have been of service'"

I have to speak to Astoria Malfoy. Scorpius is a guy; he will not have been able to portray exactly how grateful I am.

* * *

I am dropping Rose off to lunch, when Potter appears from absolutely nowhere.

"Hey" he says, in that gentle tone that I've always associated with him, "Where've you been all morning? I missed you in Defence Against the Dark Arts"

Rose suppresses a self-satisfied little grin, and replies, "Somebody didn't wake me up this morning!" punching me lightly in the upper arm.

I don't think she really wants to mention her present to her cousin, and I can understand why entirely; in that one minute gesture I pretty much told her that I love her. Verbal communication with someone that you have such strong feelings for isn't as simple as asking something like, "Can you pass the butter please?" And I'm fairly impressed with myself that I managed to think up the idea all by myself. So I can perfectly comprehend why it would be one of those things that we keep to ourselves.

"You actually going to come to Potions this afternoon?" Potter asks, the question open to both Rose and I.

"I slept over, it's not like I've taken to skipping classes" Rose replies, with a hint of irritation.

Potter holds his hands up in surrender, "Alright, sorry Rosie, I just didn't know if your break extended to the rest of the day"

"You can have your cousin back this afternoon, Potter" I offer graciously, relinquishing Rose's hand. If I'm not mistaken, Potter is displaying a look of repressed nausea.

"Thank you Malfoy, but you'll be in Potions too, won't you?"

I've never wanted to have to play tug-of-war over Rose with Potter, and I'm not about to start now, not after this morning.

"You can eat lunch with us today, can't you Scorpius? And then we can all go to Potions together afterwards"

To an outsider this doesn't seem like a life changing statement, but to Potter and I, House Tables are sacred, the same way they've been for the best part of a millennium. Suggesting that I don't sit at the proper table , well, it's practically the most radical thing that anybody could ever suggest.

And Malfoys are all about Conservative.

Or, on second thoughts, previous generations of Malfoys have been all about Conservative, Scorpius Malfoy is prepared to test virtually any boundary.

"Yeah, okay" I reply, considering that in a few minutes my girlfriend and I are going to change Hogwarts history.

The thought isn't as terrifying as it should be.

"Come on then" Potter urges, pushing the doors of the Great Hall open, and steeling himself, "Let's do this, shall we?"

* * *

Everything is all normal to begin with. It's not like Scorpius hasn't walked me to a meal before. So, everybody is completely natural as we walk down the long column, to where the Potter-Weasley clan sit.

I sit down.

Al sits down.

Scorpius lingers.

I look at Hugo pointedly, and hiss out of the corner of my mouth, "Hugo, move. Now. And don't make a big scene out of it"

Hugo manages to complete my demand with the minimal of fuss, just raises his eyebrows slightly, and moves along for Scorpius.

So now there is a big gap, which Scorpius is _not _filling.

"Drawing attention to yourself Scorpius. Sit down" I say, gesturing to the now vacated seat.

It is with great reluctance that Scorpius takes the seat.

I don't know why I'd expected a massive tsunami of chatter to erupt around us as soon as he touched the seat, because nothing of the sort happens.

Freddie offers Scorpius a slice of pizza, which he receives, and they start a polite discussion about the Quidditch League.

Lily makes lots of signally messages with her eyebrows, but I refuse to be distracted from my own ham and pineapple pizza. Since I'm not willing to speak to Lily, she leans in close to Amber Vale, whispers a few sentences in her ear and turns serenely back to her Pumpkin Juice.

A Mexican Wave of whispering girls follows this, until the entire Hall is abuzz. There is no mob demanding that the traditional order must be restored, but I do notice Lorento staring daggers at Scorpius from the teachers' table.

Scorpius and Freddie are probably the only two people in the whole Hall who are oblivious to the commotion; their heads are still fairly glued together over the sports section of today's Daily Prophet.

And then, because this is the way of gossip at Hogwarts, the noise dies down again, as everyone realises that they've forgotten to do some piece of homework, or that one of the girls in their year has done something different with her hair.

As quick as that, Scorpius and I are old news, and nobody even cares that Scorpius Malfoy is sitting at the Gryffindor Table, not with the other Slytherins.

After a little while, Scorpius lifts his head out of the newspaper and enquires, "Has everybody gotten over it yet?"

I nod, and give him the crust from my pizza, because I detest it, and he's a fiend for it.

"Nice talking to you, Scorpius" Freddie says, folding up his newspaper and getting up from the table.

"See you around sometime, Freddie" Scorpius replies.

Gobsmacked, or what?

* * *

"And what, in Circe's name, was that?" Rose practically spits at me, in a tone that suggests that I shouldn't be on first name terms with any of her cousins.

"Freddie and I were talking about Quidditch" I reply simply, taking her bag up for her, and waiting for her to get up from the table.

"I can see that" she notes, her eyes flickering between Freddie's retreating back and myself, "But, but, 'Scorpius' and then 'Freddie', it's just all too much for me to take in"

If this had been about two hundred years ago, I think this is the point at which Rose would have fainted. As it is, she's made of stronger stuff.

"Well, I, for one, am glad" Potter puts in, hurrying a little to catch up with Rose and I, who had sort of forgotten that the aim of our revolutionary lunch was so that we could all go to Potions together.

"Did you see the looks that Lorento was giving you at lunch?" Rose asks, as Potter holds a door open for us.

"I didn't see it, so much as feel it scorching through my robes" I reply, making Potter laugh.

"Rather you than me, Malfoy" he adds, emphasising the precarious position I've put myself in by just turning up to Potions, let alone turning up to Potions with a Weasley _and _a Potter.

The second that we're through the dungeon door, Lorento drags me to one side, whilst giving Rose and Potter a glare strong enough to frighten a Boggart.

"Mr Malfoy, I've been extremely patient with you throughout the past few weeks. I've overlooked this thoughtless misjudgement of character with regards to Miss Weasley, but enough is enough. The next thing I know, you'll be proposing to her"

This is the second time in two days that someone has mentioned Rose, myself and the concept of matrimony in the same sentence together. As with Mini-Potter, I focus as least as possible on how other people conceive my relationship with Rose, and concentrate on Lorento's words.

"I am severely worried about you, Mr. Malfoy, severely worried. I am seriously considering an audience with your parents, to see if they can't dissuade you from this asinine course of action"

During Lorento's mind numbingly tedious testimony to my apparent mental incapacity, I think about Rose, needless to say. The way she looks, the way she feels, the way she smells, and how I adore her with every fibre of my being.

"You are risking your privileged life in the pursuit of empty feelings, and, mark my words Mr. Malfoy, you'll come to regret the decisions you've made when you're older and more mature"

I doubt it.

**Me again: I'm not actually sure whether this whole 'not sitting at appropriate House Tables' thing was done at Hogwarts (I don't count the bit after the Last Battle, it's not really school) so I may have just made a whole big deal out of something that doesn't really need a big deal made of it. And if that's the case, I apologise. **


	27. Of Brothers and Sisters

**A/N: I don't know why this has taken me so long to type, 'cus it's less thn 5000 words (only just, admittedley) but I've made SO many typos today, it's unreal. And my computers been playing up as well (don't you just love technology?) Now get on with reading!**

**Disclaimer: Twenty Seven Chapters in, and I'm finally lost for words on the disclaimer front. **

"Malfoy, pass the sugar please?"

Scorpius passes the sugar bowl over to Louis, then continues to pour coffee for me.

It is unnerving the way that Scorpius has smoothly slotted into my Saturday morning breakfast routine. And, although the vast majority of my family is still calling him Malfoy (the exceptions being Lily and Freddie) there's nothing awkward about sitting eating french toast with my boyfriend right beside me.

In fact, it feels sort of, I don't know, homey.

Safe.

Comforting.

Any or all of the above.

"So, who's going to Hogsmeade today?" Lily asks, draining her dinky little china teacup. I shift my gaze over to Hugo, to see his reaction to the question. Whilst there is a chorus of 'yes' from everybody else, Scorpius included, there is an expression of Hugo's face which I can only have seen about three times in his life; anxiety.

But then Scorpius slides my coffee (in a mug. I'm not Lily) over to me, and my attention returns to my lazy weekend breakfast.

"Are you seeing my dear eldest sister today?" Louis asks me, absolutely no trace of sarcasm in his 'dear'. I shuffle the reply that Echo brought me earlier on this morning over to Louis, who reads aloud, " '_Belle Rose, Bien sûr, tu me manques vraiment, et je vais te voir samedi, dans Hogsmeade, si c'est possible pour toi. La rue principale, à midi? Mon amour à Lily. Amour toujours, Victoire._'"

I don't mind my private letter being read out, because Louis only mutters it under his breath, and it's only he and I who can understand it.

Or, so I assume.

Until Scorpius complains, "You never told me you were seeing you cousin today"

Scorpius speaks French?

"Sorry, what?" I demand, turning towards Scorpius.

"It's what her letter said, wasn't it?" he replies, shrugging his shoulders at me, and scrunching his face up in concentration, " 'Beautiful Rose, of course, I really miss you, and I'll see you on Saturday, in Hogsmeade, if that's possible for you. Main Street at midday, okay? My love to Lily. Love always, Victoire.' At least, that's how I remember it"

Louis and I share an astonished glance.

"You never told me you speak French" I accuse, feeling like that's one of those things that I really should know.

"You never asked" Scorpius replies, playing down the fact that I don't know this pretty major detail about him.

"Okay, wish me luck" Hugo declares, his face paler than usual, rising from the table.

"Luck for what?" Roxanne asks, her light brown skin glowing particularly beautifully in the soft morning sun.

Hugo doesn't open his mouth again, just breathes out steadily, and looks straight towards Isabella DiNozzo.

I feel a little thrill of excitement; Phase One of my plan is about to begin.

* * *

"Why exactly are we spying on your little brother?" I demand, as Rose raps her wand on top of my head, and there is a disgustingly uncomfortable sensation down the back of my neck. I know that the only reason that she can now distinguish me from my surroundings is because of my wand, which is floating in mid-air (at least, that's how it appears to Rose.)

"Now, do me. Quick!" Rose commands. I sigh, but raise my wand and tap her head, concentrating hard on the spell mentally, because it is a difficult piece of magic, even if Rose has just performed it like it's out of the Standard Book of Spells, Grade One.

"Follow me" she orders, and then she barks, "Will you take your wand back out of your pocket, please? I have no idea where you are"

And _I _have no idea why we're sneaking around like amateur Aurors, but where Rose leads, I follow.

Rose leads me through the Entrance Hall, where I catch sight of Hugo Weasley's red hair, hurrying after DiNozzo's little sister; Isabella.

"Hey!" he calls out from the bottom of the stairs, just as Principessa DiNozzo is about to walk off down the corridor.

"Yes?" she asks, and to my utter surprise, it isn't the usual sarcastic tone that tumbles out of her mouth, and her brown eyes are a lot softer than I've ever seen them.

And this is Hugo Weasley she's speaking to.

"It's Isabella, right?" he asks, progressing up the staircase.

There is a firm hand on my elbow, and before I can wonder how Rose even knows where my elbow is, she's dragging me stealthily up the stairs behind her brother.

"That's right" DiNozzo replies, smiling very slightly, "I don't need any introduction to you. You're Hugo Weasley"

And suddenly, Weasley is no longer ill-at-ease, perhaps because with that little comment the Principessa has thoroughly massaged his ego.

"You off to Hogsmeade today?" he asks casually, putting his hands in his trouser pockets.

DiNozzo's smile widens by the tiniest amount. "Maybe. Maybe not"

Rose's fingers are practically digging into my skin, she's clutching my arm so tightly, and all because her brother is trying to work up the courage to ask my ex-Quidditch Captain's baby sister out.

"Well, could I persuade you? Perhaps with the offer of coffee?"

Isabella DiNozzo shakes her dark hair back, in a way that I know that means she'll accept his offer. "I'll see you on this same spot in an hour" she replies, and before Weasley can have time to contemplate his victory, Her Highness has swept gracefully along the corridor. Weasley shoots up off the next staircase, probably to put on aftershave on or something.

"Yes!" Rose is somewhat more excited than her brother about his conquest.

* * *

"Can you and Freddie play nicely whilst I meet up with Victoire?" I ask Scorpius condescendingly, who is still huffing about the fact that I didn't tell him about Victoire, and that we sat in on Hugo asking Isabella DiNozzo out (like all other teenage girls, she needed no persuasion.)

"Oh, go and see Vic!" Freddie answers, kissing me on the cheek, "Scorpius and I will be fine. We can go and drool at the brooms on display" Then he adds, as an afterthought, "Well, I can drool, Scorpius can probably buy"

It shouldn't surprise me that Scorpius jokes, "I've just made a purchase that'll ensure I won't be buying a new broomstick any time soon"

Not only are my cousin and my boyfriend on first name terms, but this whole jokey, friendly thing is extraordinarily strange. "You will be the death of me Scorpius Malfoy" I sigh, giving him a quick peck on the mouth.

I leave the boys lusting after brooms as I stride off to meet my heroine; Victoire Weasley. She's standing right beneath the 'Main Street' sign, looking, naturally, like a goddess. "Victoire!" I squeal, allowing myself to play the hysterical teenage girl, because I haven't seen her in weeks.

"Rose!" Victoire doesn't squeal precisely, that wouldn't be refined, but there is a definite hint of excitement in her voice as she greets me, enveloping me in a huge hug.

"You look great" we say in unison, looking one another up and down.

Victoire's strawberry blonde hair flows silkily, reaching halfway down her back. It's neither straight nor curly, and like everything about Victoire, it glows. Her eyes are sparkly blue, like Aunt Fleur's, and her porcelain skin is complimented by the lightest smattering of make-up. Although our hair, and eyes, and skin are different, we have identical freckles, even if Victoire's do serve to make her look more beautiful.

"The Three Broomsticks" Victoire orders, steering me by my shoulders towards the pub, "I miss their mulled wine something crazy"

Victoire and I take a seat in the overly crowded pub, tucking ourselves into a little corner so that we can have our private chat. "What's going on in your life?" I ask Victoire, and although we write to each other in French I speak in English to her, because my oral French is a little rusty.

"Oh, you know" Victoire replies, savouring her mulled wine, "Still trying to figure out what to do about Teddy 'I-can-be-the-sweetest-guy-on-Earth-but-also-a-massive-jerk' Lupin, and being bored to death by my job. But, we're not here to talk about me, are we?"

I can see the pain in Victoire's eyes when she talks about Teddy, so, despite the fact that we're supposed to be talking about my problems, I let her vent.

* * *

"What exactly do you see in our Rosie?" Freddie asks, as we trawl through the Quidditch supplies store, commenting on every single last broom, and most of the Quidditch manuals that they stock.

I look at Freddie, wondering if this is another 'I'm warning you off my cousin' speech, but the smile he shoots back at me suggests it's not, "What's not to like?" I reply, "She's beautiful, intelligent, assertive, did I mention beautiful?"

Freddie rolls his eyes, "Scorpius, mate, there are crazy guys out there who consider my little sister beautiful, can you believe that?"

I don't want to shatter Freddie's negative perception of his sister, and at the same time I'm not going to lie to a friend's face, especially when he's the only person other than Rose that I can really consider a friend at the moment. "Don't tell Rose I said this, but your sister really is pretty attractive, at least for a fifth year"

Freddie sighs and admits, "Oh, I know it really. I just don't want to think about guys viewing my sister in the same way that you view my cousin, not until she's thirty"

Freddie selects a 'Split Twig Instant Repair Kit' from a shelf, and we make our way to the cashier so that he can pay for it.

"Anything else?" The shop-keeper is a gruff sounding as he is looking, and he only looks up when Freddie responds, "No thanks, just that"

"Six Galleons" The man opens his palm, into which Freddie drops six gold coins.

Just as we're about to walk out of the shop, the owner stops us.

"Hey" he calls out, and Freddie and I turn back towards him.

"Yeah?" I ask curiously.

The shop-owner doesn't reply straightaway, but looks Freddie over from top to toe, before doing the same to me. "You're a Weasley, aint'cha?" he demands, at which Freddie grins broadly, and says, "It's the hair that gave me away, wasn't it?"

Even though there is the obvious distinction between Freddie and his cousins of skin tone, he still sports the trademark Weasley hair.

"And that" the shop-keeper adds venomously, "Is a Malfoy, isn't it?"

There are the disadvantages of being so magnificently handsome, and, yes, having a Family Tree fraught with Dark Wizards. Before I can answer in the affirmative, Freddie cuts in, his voice significantly harder than anything I've heard before, "Do you have a problem with Scorpius?"

I've always viewed Freddie as the most likely of Rose's cousins that I'd succeed in liking, but I never expected him to behave anything like how he has today.

"Thanks" I mutter, as we exit the shop, almost embarrassed.

I've encountered bigotry before, I expect it from most people even, but the fact that Freddie Weasley has just stood up for me, makes me disbelieve, that little bit more, every bad word my father's ever said about his family.

* * *

"Oh, I just don't know what to do!" Victoire concludes, narrowing her eyes in frustration.

Whilst I'm sympathetic to her plight, I can't help feeling gleeful that, for once, my love life is fairly regular (Freddie and Scorpius getting along is an added bonus that I hadn't anticipated) and Victoire's is pretty messy.

And, although this _is _supposed to be my stress-out session, I comfort my cousin as much as I can. "Victoire, please don't feel like Teddy being a jerk about me seeing Scorpius means that he's not a good guy. Because he's one of the best guys that I know, and I know that he loves you"

Victoire fiddles with the silver ring on her right index finger; a coming of age present from her grandmère and grandpère. Then, she smiles falsely, and flips her abundant hair over her shoulder. "This isn't about me" she says firmly, "So, can we please get down to business?"

This gives birth to a long conversation about Balls; what makes a good Ball, the reasons to hold a Ball, the appropriate dress code for a Ball. The conversation goes on and on, never really touching on how exactly to organise a Ball, just all the nice stuff.

Although Victoire hasn't told me how to sort out my problems precisely, I've had fun; Victoire is my closest female cousin and now that it's not summer and I can't see her every other day, I need regular chats with her, just to keep myself sane.

"Another drink?" I ask Victoire, who's finished her mug of mulled wine.

"I'll get it, you want one?" The Three Broomsticks does serve the best mulled wine for miles around, it's true, but I've got to get back to the Castle and plan this darned Ball, (DiNozzo is a pain in the derrière, that much I can tell you) and find out from Hugo how today went with little DiNozzo.

Victoire gets up from our table, and, with her indescribable beauty, manages to work her way to the front of the five mile queue in ten seconds flat. She's back very soon, puzzling over why our drinks were free.

"What gender was the bartender?" I ask my clueless cousin wearily.

"Male" she replies instantaneously, clasping both of her hands round her steaming mug, "But, I don't see what that's got to do with anything"

Victoire's refusal to accept her own sensational good looks (unlike a certain Miss Potter) is all part of her charm, in addition to the French accent that she can switch on an off at will.

"Merlin, Victoire, I know you sit in an office all day, and don't really see many guys other than Teddy, but how can you not see that you're stunning? And the Veela blood doesn't hurt either"

Victoire's tinkling laugh rings out; she assumes that I'm just trying to cheer her up. "Oh, beautiful Rose!" she exclaims, "You are a silly girl"

And she's a young lady in denial.

* * *

"Dom, you know Scorpius Malfoy, right?" Freddie asks the pretty young woman working the till in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Not now, Freds" she snaps back, since she is currently being harassed by a bunch of Hogwarts students and looks rushed off her feet.

"Yeah, that's pretty much Dominique" Freddie tells me, looking fondly at his cousin, "I swear, she's practically run this place since she was about three, I can't imagine her ever doing anything else"

I take in all the products around me; three decades of Hogwarts students have used this place as inspiration to cause mayhem in the Castle. And then, of course, there are Skiving Snackboxes, the old classic. Even I admit that I've swallowed the odd Fainting Fancy or Fever Fudge to get out of a heinous test or two. But I've never actually been in one of the shops, never been able to experience firsthand the atmosphere, charged with mischievous magic.

"You don't mind if I neglect you for half an hour or so, do you?" Freddie asks, holding up a pair of WWW employee robes, and sounding genuinely sorry.

"No, of course not, go ahead" I offer, considering how nice it is of him to give up part of his weekend to help out his cousin, "I'll just go and explore the shop a bit more"

As soon as Freddie swaps his casual weekend robes for the ones worn by employees of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he is engulfed by a crowd of school students, all desperate to learn about the next big practical joke.

I wander through the extensive shop; from the front it seems like your regular sized Hogsmeade shop, but the interior is much bigger than can be possible. I struggle through all the teenage boys who are picking up their pranking essentials; Fake Wands, Shield Hats and the like. It seems like there is something different and creative in every nook and cranny of this crooked little shop, and I can see exactly how much patience and love has been fed into it.

Then the little bell above the doorway tinkles, and when Freddie sees who has come in, he breathes a sigh of relief and rips off his robes. "Where've you been?" he demands of the new comer, a tall dark guy of about twenty-three.

"My daughter was ill, and my girlfriend's being weird, and I've just been a mess. Sorry I'm late, is Dom stressing out?"

"That's Cooper Kennedy" Freddie explains to me, once he's free to leave the shop, "The guy has absolutely no concept of punctuality, and I think he's actually the bane of Dominique's life"

I can't believe I've just spent the best part of an hour poking around in this amazing shop. I really think my outlook on life has changed a lot, ever since I fell in love with Rose.

* * *

"You weren't the least bit apprehensive leaving your Malfoy boyfriend in the hands of your Weasley cousin for the entire afternoon?" Victoire asks, staring at me in disbelief.

"They genuinely get on Victoire" I return, getting a chance to work out their weird relationship in my head, "Freddie's always been easy-going, you know that, and he and Scorpius do have a lot in common, because they're both Keepers, and what not, and honestly, if they've both made a new friend who they're happy with, who am I to complain?"

And speak of the devils, I've barely finished explaining the Scorpius/Freddie situation, when the pair of them enter through the doors of the pub, and instantly catch sight of Victoire and I, even in our concealed corner.

"Victoire!" Freddie exclaims, rushing to greet her. Scorpius trails slightly behind him, exuding his normal air of confidence. But the closer he gets to Victoire, the more intimidated he looks, until he ends up looking at her with the same awe in his eyes as every other male on the planet.

"Hi" I chime, kissing him on the cheek; it's cold, because he's just come in from outside, and in the heat of The Three Broomsticks, his temperature is very comforting.

"I think Victoire might have already left by the time we got to Hogwarts" I say, my introduction messy, "But anyway, this is Victoire, my eldest cousin, if you don't count Teddy, and as you may be able to tell, she's part Veela"

It's not like I make a big deal out of the fact that Victoire is descended from the most beautiful race on the planet, or anything. I just think that she has an unfair natural advantage.

Victoire's reception of Scorpius isn't lukewarm, so to speak; it's not overly friendly, because that would be far too familiar, and it's not frosty, because that would be rude.

"So, Scorpius, do you have wicked intentions towards my little cousin?"

I resent Victoire calling me her 'little' cousin, and the fact that she's embarrassing my boyfriend.

"I, erm, well, huh-" Scorpius splutters, a mixture of star struck, and taken aback by the question.

"Victoire" I sing-song, "You're acting like Teddy!"

Victoire clamps her mouth shut as soon as I say this, evidently not wanting to be the 'insensitive, big-mouthed twit' that I referred to Teddy as earlier.

"How did you guys get on? Where did you go?" I ask, attempting to bridge the awkward gap that has loomed. Freddie chatters ten-to-the-dozen, the way that he does; about going to shop, about his new Broom Care Kit, about Dominique.

Scorpius sits by, looking like he's accessing a bitter-sweet memory.

* * *

"Is that my brother behind us?" Rose hisses out the corner of her mouth as we traipse back up to the Castle, at the end of an exhausting day.

I sneak a surreptitious glance over my shoulder, towards the figures climbing the hill with us. "Whoever it is, Principessa DiNozzo's with him" I reply, as Rose snuggles into me, the wind blowing more fiercely.

She chuckles a little, and says cheerfully, "They make such a cute couple"

Rose clearly does not know Isabella DiNozzo, and what an Ice Queen she is.

Then, curiously, she asks, "Do you know whether DiNozzo was in Hogsmeade today? Phillipe DiNozzo, I mean"

Rose gets weirder and weirder with every passing second, I swear.

"Why?" I question, genuinely worried by how she considers her little brother and DiNozzo's little sister a good match, when the girl will break his heart.

"No reason in particular" she replies, and then she lapses back into thoughtful silence as we struggle uphill, the wind trying its utmost to knock us back down again. "Do you reckon DiNozzo'd be angry about it? About Hugo and Isabella?"

I shoot Rose a sideways glance, and she stares back at me innocently, "What?" she demands, "It was a perfectly simple enough question"

The question may be simple, and the answer to it is also black and white, but what I can't understand is why she asked me it in the first place.

"Probably" I reply slowly, not knowing which answer it is that she wants to hear, "Overprotective brother, pretty sister, inappropriate family links. Or, at least, inappropriate family links in DiNozzo's eyes"

Rose looks strangely happy that I've suggested that DiNozzo would want to mash her little brother to a pulp for breathing in the same air as his little sister.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" I ask, at which Rose shakes her head and murmurs, "Nuh-huh. Patience is a virtue, remember?"

She looks up at me coquettishly from underneath her eyelashes as she uses my own line against me.

When we reach the top of the hill we're both exhausted. As we are about to enter the grounds there is a loud cracking noise, the same one that is associated with Apparition, and Albus Potter appears.

"Hey, you guys!" he greets us cheerily, as Rose and I exchange horrified glances with one another.

"There was absolutely no need-" Rose trails off, as she looks back down the steep hill that we've just battled with.

"We could've just-" I start, but I feel too stupid to continue.

Rose and I have the combined common sense of a six month old.

* * *

"How's Vic?" Lily asks me, slicing her carrot up into impossibly tiny slithers.

"She's fine" I answer, continuing to watch Lily dissect her food. "Erm, Lily? What exactly are you doing to your food?"

She looks at me like I've just asked a question a six year old could answer, "I'm eating Rosie. You know, the process by which food gets into the body?"

She is _so _not funny.

"For real, Lily?" I demand sarcastically, "Well, I never! That's called eating?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake" Lucy cuts in, aggravated by our conversation, "It's some new diet thing that she's obsessing over, where you eat really tiny mouthfuls, chew them for ages, and then miraculously lose loads of weight"

Sure enough, Lily is chomping her micro-slither of carrot like it's a chewy steak, whilst Al looks on, appalled.

"What in Circe's name are you doing?" he asks dumbstruck, "Eat normally!"

Lily pouts, picking up her knife and fork from back off the table and complains, "But Al, I'm trying to drop a robe size by Halloween"

There is a collective rolling of eyes, and several strangled voices, all trying to dissuade Lily, but none getting anywhere useful, until I hear a familiar drawl, "Potter, it doesn't work" Scorpius has stopped eating his roast chicken, and is gazing intently at Lily.

"But, but" Lily splutters, diving into her schoolbag, to retrieve her most commonly read resource; Witch Weekly, "It says right here, look"

She thrusts the magazine over to Scorpius who looks amusedly at the 'before' and 'after' photos.

In one, the witch is dressed in plain black robes, fastened over her generously sized body, and she's sulking. In the other she sports emerald green robes, open to reveal a low cut top and tight jeans, and she's strutting all over the photo.

Scorpius hands the magazine back over to Lily, not impressed, "I believe the reason she now looks like that is because she was overweight to begin with, cut her calorie intake down to about eight hundred a day, and spent about an hour and a half gruelling with a personal trainer each day" Then he adds, "And the magazine probably Charmed that photo anyway"

Lily resolutely puts another piece of carrot in her mouth, does her chewing rigmarole and demands, "How would you know that?"

A question I had been wondering myself, because I hadn't realised that Scorpius was such an avid reader of women's magazines.

"Salinas tried it" he responds, and Lily's eyes flicker over towards the Slytherin Table.

"But she's really skinny!" she exclaims, with a worrying sort of admiration in her eyes.

I ignore her as completely as I can, and move onto double chocolate cake, topped with whipped cream and strawberries.

* * *

"Did you have a good time with Isabella?" Rose demands of her brother, who is sat on the opposite sofa to us.

He and I are probably sporting the same type of 'And-what-has-that-got-to-do-with-you?' expression.

"It was fine" he replies slowly, trying to work out why Rose wants to know.

"Good, good" Rose says breezily, turning to me, "Isn't that good Scorpius?"

I attempt to school my face into an acceptably sincere appearance, as I reply, "Yeah, yeah, that's great"

An awkward silence follows this.

"So, do you think you'll be seeing her again?" Rose pushes, and Weasley's face is now downright concerned.

Without answering her question, he asks me, "Is she okay?"

An amused laugh escapes Rose, meaning that thankfully I don't have to reply.

"I just want to know what you're up to Hugo. What's wrong with that?"

Weasley's face says that everything's wrong with that.

"Look, Rosie, I'm sorry, but I've just remembered that, uh, I have Charms homework due in tomorrow"

Weasley has been backing out of the room as he explains this, and is already out of the Portrait Hole by the time that Rose calls out, "But Hugo, it's Sunday tomorrow!"

It's too late, her brother is long gone, probably sprinting back to Gryffindor Tower as we speak.

"_Is _there something wrong with you?" I ask Rose, who has that self-satisfied smile on her face again.

"Not at all" she replies cheerily, "Just looking out for my baby brother"

This is the first time that Rose has ever expressed any interest at all in her brother, not counting that incident when I was under the Imperius Curse, and it's certainly the first time that she's ever wanted to get involved in his love life. (She has, on occasion, been known to call him a 'good for nothing, womanizing love rat')

"I don't think I'll ever really understand you, Miss Weasley"

Rose slips her arms around my waist, kisses me and replies, "And that's the way that it's supposed to be, Mr. Malfoy"

I'm grateful for the fact that some of the heat in Rose's kiss has gone; she's taken on board my comments about failed relationships and now she's still passionate, just not excessively. I'm enjoying myself immensely when she groans, and pulls away.

"I've got to go and finish all this Ball planning stuff"

I look at her reproachfully, and internally swear at the stupid Ball.

" I know, I know" she concedes, voicing my opinion, "It's taking up all my time, and we never do anything together, but I promise it'll all be worth it at Halloween" Rose drags her immense pile of 'Ball Preparation Material' towards her, and shoos me away to the other sofa. "I don't want any distractions"


	28. Of Sandwiches and Interviews

**A/N: I probably feel like the world's biggest stranger, but there is a good reason for that, I promise. My life is just the biggest mess of hectic and poor old fanfiction got sort of shoved to the back of the priorites line. However, here is four thousand words of something, which is better than nothing, right? I hope you enjoy, it was a relief for me to finally be able to write something.**

**Disclaimer: After all this time you may have forgotten, so I'm just going to remind you, Harry isn't mine.**

"Hi" I greet the little Hufflepuff first year, who is looking at the sitting room in awe. The little girl has mousey brown pig tails, and a shy smile.

"Hello" she says, in a voice as little as herself.

"What's your name?" I ask her gently, scared of breaking her.

"Abbey" she replies, heaving herself onto the sofa. Then she repeats herself, because I haven't written the information down, even though I'm holding a quill, "Abbey Mitchell."

I nod at her and put the misguiding quill down. "I bet you're wondering why you're here, huh?" I probe, realising that being summoned to the Head Girl's private sitting room on a Sunday morning is probably fairly terrifying, especially to an eleven year old.

"Yeah, sort of" she replies, taking a biscuit from the plate in the middle of the coffee table and nibbling on it.

"This is going to seem an odd question to you Abbey, but have you ever been to a Ball?"

Abbey continues to eat the biscuit, thinking about her response.

"I've never been to a proper Ball. I've been to weddings, when my aunts have gotten married, but I don't really know what a Ball is."

I store all this information away in my brain, not wanting to write down anything she says in her presence, so that she doesn't feel under pressure.

"And what do you think would be the best part of going to a Ball?"

This time Abbey doesn't need to consider, but replies promptly, "That's easy. Wearing a nice dress."

I get the feeling that no matter how many girls I ask, they will all give me that same reply.

"So, if somebody asked you to a Ball, you'd like to go?"

Abbey nods her head violently, then adds, "I don't think I'd ever be able to ask a boy to one though, it's not really proper, is it?"

I laugh, because Abbey reminds me so much of myself at her age, and I reassure her, "I'm sure if the opportunity arises, any boy would be lucky to have you as his date."

Abbey blushes, turning dark pink. "You really think so?"

It's not like I'd been entirely dreading having to conduct this survey, and it does give me great satisfaction to reply, "I know it" and see her blue-green eyes light up. "You've been great" I tell her, prompting a big smile. "That's all I need to know, thank you Abbey"

She skips off the sofa, snaffling another biscuit on the way out. "Bye Rose" she says cheerily, giving me a little wave as she exits.

Its ten a.m and I've done my first mini interview. I've only got another twenty-eight to do (one from each year of each house, plus a teacher.)

I take another sip of my rapidly cooling coffee, and mentally prepare for the next; a sixth year Ravenclaw. I can tell it's going to be a long day.

* * *

It's quite late when I wake up, I can tell because the sun is high in the sky and I can hear the quiet murmur of conversation from inside the sitting room; Rose conducting her market research. I don't want to disturb her by passing through in my way to breakfast/lunch (whichever meal is more appropriate) and this gives me a chance to lounge around my room, thinking about nothing in particular, and not doing much.

But, of course, every time I manage to make my mind reasonably blank, I get another stray thought, usually connected in some way to Rose, though occasionally sporadic.

Things like, the way my perfect girlfriend has considerable trouble finding a pair of tights without ladders in the morning, regardless of the fact that I've got to have offered a thousand and one times to put a Strengthening Charm on them.

Or, that Rose looks scarily dead when she sleeps, she seems to almost look like she's not breathing, and if you mistook her pale complexion for pallor, you'd automatically assume that the rigid yet somehow graceful position that she sleeps in was the bearing of 'eternal rest.'

And just once, when my mind is at its clearest, I imagine the future; a wedding and children. I get as far as naming these fictitious offspring (Luca for a boy, Honour for a girl) and envisaging the colour of their hair (strawberry blonde like Victoire? Weasley red like Dominique? Plain blonde like Louis?) when I snap myself out of it.

It's something that I've never visualised before, something that I've never had the desire to visualise, and the vividness of the picture daunts me.

I'm still sitting on my bed, but I swear I can feel Honour's silky strawberry blonde hair between my fingers, and see Luca's hazel eyes, just like Rose's, gazing up at me in admiration.

I put my face in my hands, trying to rid my mind of the image that is seemingly seared into the back of my skull.

It goes away, but it takes longer than I am comfortable with.

I can't discern why exactly it is that I feel so uncomfortable with the picture, maybe because, at heart, I am a Malfoy, and I was raised with certain expectations placed upon me. And beautiful as those two phantom children might be (I've been able to free my mind of their physical likeness, but somehow I know that I'll always remember Honour and Luca) they are not what are required of me.

It saddens me that my life is supposed to be led to a formula, although I like to break the rules as much as the next person, I ascertain that there are incontestable directives that I'm meant to live by, and Rose Weasley doesn't fit into any of them.

And if she doesn't fit them, maybe they no longer fit me.

* * *

"Of course it's not cheating!" I feign offence at Dean's question, "Whatever makes you think that you have to agree with me, merely because you're my godfather? My favourite one, might I add?"

Dean smiles at me indulgently, as he recalls, "You only have one godfather, don't you, Posie?"

I cringe.

I can just about live with Rosie, I can probably even learn to like it, but Posie truly is the limit.

"Okay, okay, you got me" I concede, taking the lunch that he's brought up for me. "I think Scorpius said that he was going to bring me something up; you just missed him."

Scorpius had come out just after my halfway point, looking slightly spooked, and practically sleepwalked out of the Tower, promising to bring me food.

"But I'm not going to refuse two sets of food, am I?"

Dean looks me over, and then asks, "Where do you keep all that food? You used to eat Parvati's curry until it came out of your ears, and never gain an ounce. She says it's the only time that she's ever been jealous of a seven year old"

I smile at the nostalgia of spending weekends at Dean and Parvati's, they'd nearly always take me to Diagon Alley and spoil me somehow.

"Speaking of seven year olds" I add, "How's Niamh?"

Dean flips open his wallet, having taken it from his trouser pocket and shows me a picture. Niamh smiles up, sticking her tongue out occasionally, and rebraiding her long, dark hair.

"She's wonderful, growing too quickly for her own good. And Edie misses you"

Five year old Eden Thomas is next to her sister in the photograph, pulling Niamh's hair and fiddling with the bracelet on her left wrist.

"She still has her bracelet!" I exclaim happily, tugging the picture from the wallet.

"Never takes the damned thing off" Dean explains, "And forever asking 'When's Rosie going to visit?'"

I make guilty looking eyes. "I'll write to them, honest, Dean."

Then, so that I can feel less conscience stricken, I change the subject, "So, I'll just put you down for 'I entirely love the Ball idea, and I think Rose Weasley's the perfect person for it' and be done with it, shall I?"

Dean looks like he's on the verge of being a responsible teacher and bringing up all sorts of issues, when I flutter my eyelashes and smile at him cheekily.

"For me, Dean? Please?"

Dean sighs, and admits failure, "Rose Weasley you manipulative little witch, you're the most devious teenage girl I shall ever meet. You can't be a good role model for my girls."

"Probably not" I agree cheerily, reflecting on how many times that has been said of all my older cousins, and how they're fabulous role models for me anyway.

"Well" Dean acknowledges, "If I was going to put one student in this school in charge of such an event , it would be you Rosie, and not just because you're my favourite god-daughter"

Dean has left, leaving me with my lunch, when I realise, "Hey! I'm your only god-daughter!"

* * *

Rose is sitting on the sofa, happily eating a steak sandwich when I re-enter the Tower, bearing a full Sunday lunch, the gravy sliding precariously around the plate. Her eyes light up when she sees me.

"You're such a darling!" she exclaims, putting her sandwich down, and surprising me by the amount of blue cheese there is around her mouth.

Nobody ever mentioned to me that Rose Weasley is such a carnivore.

"Er, you've already got lunch" I point out, feeling usurped in my position of food-bearer.

"Hello, roast beef!" Rose returns, "Compliments a steak and blue cheese sandwich like a charm."

Unbelievable.

Her cholesterol levels must be up there with the Quidditch hoops.

"Anyway" she continues cheerily, "All these stupid interviews are really taking it out of me, I need to keep my protein levels up."

I put Rose's lunch down on the table, and she yelps when a micro-millilitre of gravy threatens to touch one of the reams of parchment littering the room.

"You know, carbohydrates would probably serve you-" I get cut off by the intimidating scowl on Rose's face. "No, no, roast beef, that's good too" I concede, as she sinks back to her snack. "So, how long have you got for lunch?" I enquire, snaffling a roast potato off her plate.

"As long as it takes me to eat" she replies, between mouthfuls, "I'm only halfway through and I already want to jump off the Astronomy Tower."

It is extremely refreshing to watch a girl, my girl, eat a regular meal with relish, after years of watching Mariah pick at food and not eat it.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Rose questions, pulling me out of my state of lapsed consciousness.

"Huh?" I reply, my eyes mirroring the confusion felt in my head.

"Do I have food on my face?" Rose demands, "You have no idea the places I have managed to splatter food on myself over the years." She wipes the corner of her mouth self-conciously, as I shake my head at her.

"No, sorry, Rosie" I respond, "It was nothing like that, I was just dreaming, that's all. No food other than in your mouth and on your plate."

Rose breathes a sigh of relief, whilst images of our imaginary children flash, unbidden, into my head.

"Hey, Rose?" I ask, perching on the arm of the sofa opposite her, "What do you think of the names Luca and Honour?"

Rose regards me quizzically, unsurprisingly, and opens her mouth. "Honour's a really beautiful name. And such an endearing, strong personality trait, obviously. But Luca?" Rose wrinkles her nose, "I don't know about that one, But then-" She trails off, thinking. "I suppose I could grow to like it. Why?"

"No reason" I answer quickly, getting up, "Just a question."

Rose's lips form into a pout, like she knows I'm not telling the truth, but before she can interrogate me any further, I disappear back into the comforting confinement of my room.

* * *

"You can do this."

I mentally pull myself together, and take a massive glug from the glass of iced water in my hand. On the sofa opposite me my seventh year Slytherin is perched; none other than Mariah Salinas.

I'm not sure whether I believe in Fate or Destiny, but there's no doubt that the cosmos is playing a sick prank on me right now.

"So, Salinas, how exactly do you feel about Hogwarts hosting a Halloween Ball?" I ask, the polite note in my voice the only thing reminding me not to kick her out of the sitting room.

"Apathetic" is her one word reply.

The complexity of the single word from her mouth is surprising, but what concerns me more is the fact that she's still twisting a ring around the fourth finger of her left hand.

I look her over pityingly, which is entirely uncharacteristic for me, and ask with a hint of derision in my voice, "Didn't Scorpius ask for his ring back?"

Her sharp green eyes rake over me, before her mouth twists into what she passes for a smile. "Of course he did. I don't know whether you'd noticed, but this is a pearl ring, Scorpius' was an emerald"

She seemingly enjoys watching the cogs turn inside my brain as I process this information, playing catch up.

I'd never really taken notice of the ring on Mariah's finger before, just known it was there, but thinking about it now, I realise that it had been emerald, I remember thinking how it brought out the evil in her matching green eyes.

Which means that there's someone ignorant enough out there to have proposed to her in the mere matter of a week or so.

"Congratulations" I offer woodenly, as Mariah does an expert impression of the cat that got the cream.

"Yes, well" she says "July twenty-ninth is just such a nice date, I couldn't bear to see it go to waste, so mother got talking, and at first it seemed like Phillipe would be the ideal candidate, but of course he's betrothed to some horrific Italian girl with fluff for brains, so it had to be someone from Durmstrang, didn't it?" Mariah catches herself, realising too late that I'm not part of the coven of crones that she usually over shares with, and sneers at me. "So, you're welcome to Malfoy, he was never really good enough for me anyway."

The petty, childish Rosie inside of me longs to yell, 'So why in Circe's name did you wear his ring on your finger for two years and act like the sun shone out of his every orifice?!'

Luckily self-control is one of my many major talents, and I manage to bite my tongue. "I'm sure it'll be a wonderful day, but you're free to leave now."

She exits the room not a moment too soon, and leaves me with a need to strangle an animate object and hear it scream. There's no way I can psyche myself up any further to carry on, not before I, or somebody else, gets majorly damaged.

* * *

If my door could speak, it'd be yelling in agony at this precise moment, as Rose thumps on it viciously. "I can't do it Scorpius. I can't!" she complains, through gritted teeth, "I've seen like this tiny proportion of the school, and most of them like the idea, they really do, but then people like Salinas put a damper on the entire thing."

I have a sudden urge to quiz Rose on every second of her conversation with Salinas, but decide that ultimately, I don't want to know.

"Firstly" I reply, turning Rose around so that her wrists are no longer assaulting my door, and her disheartened eyes are looking into mine, "You can do anything Rose Weasley, because you're amazing, and secondly, Salinas isn't exactly the least biased member of the school you could have picked, is she?"

Rose knows what I'm saying makes sense, I can see it in the little twitch at the corner of her mouth, struggling to suppress a smile.

"I suppose you're right" she sighs, flopping onto my bed, "Big tasks are sort of my forte." Her enthusiasm for her project makes her scarily dedicated to it, so, without any further encouragement from me, she's striding back out of the room, self-confidence freshly squeezed from her, awaiting her Ravenclaw third year, or whoever it is that's next on the list.

The door closes behind her, and my mind jumps back to her comment about Mariah 'But then people like Salinas put a damper on the whole thing.' Surely it's not wrong to be interested in your ex-girlfriend's life, especially when you'd been engaged to that ex-girlfriend? But, does that change if you already have a new girlfriend?

I look at my reflection questioningly in the mirror, willing him to answer me, but he doesn't. "Fine" I mutter at my double in the reflective surface, "Be like that."

I copy Rose's action of flopping down onto my bed, hoping it'll bring me some of the resolution that it brought her, but no such luck. Halfway through my moody glare at the ceiling I realise that there is no trace of Mariah left in my mind, and that what I've actually been thinking about for the majority of my time is mine and Rose's futures, and Mini-Potter and Lorento's automatic conclusion of marriage.

I don't think Rose expects me to marry her, at least she's never mentioned it. Granted, she's never mentioned much about her future, maybe because she's not entirely sure what she hopes it'll bring, but she's never given me the impression that she wants to be tied down, least of all to me.

The seriously heavy thoughts I'm having disturb me, they signify some transition from irresponsible teenage playboy into this mature adult, taking into account other people's emotions. And although the 'irresponsible teenage playboy' thing had started to get old, is now really the time I want to be making this sort of transformation?

* * *

"Hi Princess"

There has only ever been, and there will only ever be one man in the entire world to call me 'Princess' with such feeling and devotion that I can actually envisage a tiara on my head.

"Teddy?" I reply questioningly, my overworked brain not sufficiently in gear.

Scorpius helpfully jerks his thumb over his shoulder, towards the fireplace, where Theodore Remus Lupin's head is floating.

My immediate thought is that his hair is not its habitual shade of lurid turquoise, and therefore something must be wrong.

"I just had a chat with Victoire" Teddy explains, tugging at his mid-length brown curls remorsefully, "The letter you sent me sort of went in the fire, but Vic wouldn't exactly fit, and your dear cousin's just spent about three hours using a choice variety of descriptive expletives"

See, the needy-but-beautiful Veela I saw in Hogsmeade isn't really Victoire, she's much more kick-ass.

"And?" I try to keep my voice as expressionless as possible, try not to let Teddy know exactly how much his being here means to me.

"And" he picks up my speech, "She made me realise I'm a miserable git, because I'm on the wrong side of twenty one, and that taking it out on you makes me the traitorous pathetic excuse for a human being, not you."

I have my moral victory, my apology, but somehow it doesn't feel like a victory.

"Don't say that Teddy" I beg, looking carefully into his blue eyes, "That was heat of the moment stuff, you were just looking out for me."

Teddy shakes his head mournfully and admits, "I was a prat. I don't know Malfoy, and I judged you for following your heart. It was entirely unacceptable, princess."

My insides melt as Teddy's eyes show his true remorse.

"Not that I'll apologise for trying to protect you" he adds as an afterthought, "Your dad pays me to protect you, and 'over react' is actually in my job description. But if I ever have the nerve to speak to anyone like that, ever again, least of all you, please ex-communicate me."

"Deal" I agree, leaning in to kiss Teddy on the cheek. "On second thoughts" I add, "We'll kiss on it next time your head's not in my fireplace"

"Probably for the best" Teddy returns, his eyes flickering around the room, until they rest on Scorpius. "That him?" he demands quietly, at which I nod my head slightly.

Scorpius' head is bent over a textbook, or a piece of parchment, his shining platinum hair falling forward like a curtain of silk.

It might just be a change in the light of the fire, but I could swear that Teddy's cheeks colour a little, before he says, "We can chat some other time. Malfoy and I, I mean. You two look quite busy." I'm so glad that Teddy chose to intrude on this moment, because it means that he can report back to my father that Scorpius and I work, and generally engage in activities that do not involve him being shirtless in my bedroom at eight in the morning.

"Bye princess" Teddy says, sadness tingeing his voice, "See you soon."

I wave at the rapidly fading figure in the fire's flames, and feel another portion of my life click into place.

* * *

"So that was Teddy?" I ask, lifting my head up from my Care of Magical Creatures textbook the second that I'm sure that the figure in the fireplace has departed.

Rose's answer of "Yeah, that as Teddy" is coupled with a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, so clearly thrilled is she that she is no longer all those horrible things that he called her.

From what I heard of the conversation, the Weasley's are one pretty integrated family, despite the fact that their surnames differ, and Lupin is a part of it. I try to think back to the last time that Victoriana and I spoke; I can't remember.

"You should probably meet him" Rose says, pushing her hair behind her ears, and rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Not wanting to scare you, but you'll have to meet them all at some point." By all, I assume she means her contingent of uncles, and her grandfather and evidently Lupin.

I give her a non-committal shrug before adding, "I'd love to invite you to the Manor sometime, I'm sure my mother would be perfectly hospitable. My father's an entirely different cauldron of Grindylows, but he'll have to get over it eventually."

Rose's smile falters a little, before she reminds herself, "I was supposed to write to your mother, wasn't I? To say thank you for my amazing gift."

I shake my head at her, because I've already shown my eternal gratitude to my mother, and Rose'll only get all worked up over a formal note of thanks. In return I get a pair of extremely raised eyebrows and the promise that she'll send a note first thing in the morning.

"Now" she continues, very business-like, "I'm aware that I have this entirely wonderful boyfriend, who isn't really the misogynistic jerk that I thought that I knew for six years, and I know that I've been ridiculously occupied for the past couple of days, but I'm determined to make it up to him really soon, if his patience can hold on?"

"And I have the single most talented girlfriend in the world, who I worry about a lot, but I realise that she's strong enough to cope with anything, so I'm just going to stop complaining and let her get on with being wonderful" I reply, taking Rose's hand in mine.

"I really am sorry about all of this" she almost whispers, despite the fact that she has no grounds for apologising.

"Really" I counter, "You've nothing to be sorry for."

Rose gives another little smile and lays her head on my lap. "Most people think that the Ball's a really good idea" she tells me, the satisfaction in her voice entirely deserved. "So, I'm going to see McGonagall after lessons tomorrow, break the good news to her, and then get right down to it." I mistakenly had thought that 'getting down to it' included all the preparation she's already done, all the stressed out moments she's already pushed herself through, but apparently planning the actual physical event is much more taxing than interviewing two dozen people.

"Poor you" I soothe, smiling down at her.

Rose sighs and agrees, "Yes, poor me."


	29. Of Weasleys and DiNozzos

**A/N: ****Why, hello there! No, I didn't die, didn't decide to join NASA and fly to Mars (or at least simulate it) and I haven't lost the capability to write, or at least I hope I haven't. Actually, it was a pretty massive surprise to find out that I hadn't updated this story in a year, I was like, it's been a couple of months at most, but no, pretty much a year. I'd feel more terrible about it if I could actually pinpoint where all the time has gone, but I can't. And I should have updated with this chapter quite literally a year ago. And now I've apoloised for that, albeit, seemingly very insincerely, I'd like to say a MASSIVE thank you to Diba28 for being the person to draw to my attention my year long break, and forcing me to galvanise myself into action. Thank you very much for the review, and it only seems fair to dedicate this chapter to you! Now, I have two of the most important weeks of my life coming up, the ones which potentially affect whether I get into university or not, and thus, have a direct effect on the rest of my life. Therefore, it's a safe bet to say that I won't be updating within the next fortnight. However, I promise right now, that it definitely will not be a year. I'm aiming for in about 3 weeks time (got to give myself a week to celebrate the end of exams, and then get over the celebrations) and, if it's any longer than that, I give permission for people to start sending me (mildly) abusive messages, to the effect that I'm a total failure and you all hate me. Hopefully, it won't come to that. And I have most definitely rambled on for long enough now, you guys have a good 5,270 words of reading to do. And, if you don't hate me all too much, would a review be too much to ask?**

**Disclaimer: I really don't deserve to own the characters that I actually did create, let alone the ones that I didn't. **

I am woken by Scorpius attempting to get dressed quietly and failing miserably. He is pulling his trousers on, his tie slung casually around his shoulders when I open my eyes.

"What time is it?" I ask sleepily, fumbling around on the bedside table for my watch.

"Ten past eight. And good morning" Scorpius replies, as I slide out of his bed.

"You should have woken me" I gripe, sleepy more than anything.

"Had to take a cold shower" Scorpius grins, kissing me lightly on the forehead.

I hold my hands up in a gesture of surrender, to emphasise the fact that Scorpius' predicament is not my fault, by any means.

"Don't give me that look" Scorpius whines, looking me over reproachfully, "And go put some clothes on!"

He sounds so much like my dad, I can't help but laugh out loud, as I deliberately disobey him, reach up, and begin to knot his silver and green tie.

"Rosie."

There is so much emotional charge in that one word, just my name, that my breath hitches in my throat.

"Yes?" I answer innocently, supremely aware of the heat radiating from both our bodies.

"Please stop" he demands quietly, his grey eyes searing straight into my soul.

I don't.

I can't.

"Stop what?" I ask lightly, the knotting of this particular tie taking suspiciously more time than it's ever taken me to do Hugo's. "I'm just doing your tie for you" I continue, my tone hushed, for some unknown reason.

Scorpius reaches out, touches my hand.

The sheer electricity that passes between our bodies almost propels me halfway across the room.

My hand drops from his tie.

"We can talk about this later" he mutters, striding across the floor and retreating into the bathroom, leaving me with my sinfully impure thoughts.

I have no idea why Scorpius Malfoy has this dizzying effect on me. For Merlin's sake, I've known the guy since he was an eleven year old brat, and there has never been an exact transition, that I can pinpoint, where he turned into this man that I'm so eager to jump into bed with.

I hear the shower running again, and sigh.

Scorpius has the most extraordinary restraint; I'm quite in awe of him.

I can do nothing until he has exited the bathroom, so I lie back in Scorpius' bed, and breathe in his scent from his pillow. I try to move away from this highly sensitive topic, try to focus my mind on my upcoming Ball, but it doesn't work. The only image I see is Scorpius looking stunning in dress robes.

"You're falling in love with him for real, Rose" I admonish myself, narrowing my eyes at nobody in particular.

Even though I can see the problems, I know what all the problems in loving Scorpius Malfoy would entail, I can't stop myself.

Love.

Four letters arranged in a particular order don't convey much, do they? Nothing can really.

Well.

Yes, something can.

But Scorpius doesn't want that. And I really, really do.

"Why not?" I ask myself desperately, controlling the urge to batter the pillow in front of me like an infant.

"Why not?" I repeat, my heart heavier than I've ever known it.

* * *

I try to kid myself that I'm in the bathroom out of necessity.

In psychological terms, I believe this is called, 'Scorpius-Malfoy-is-in-serious-denial.'

I am clearly not in here just because I need to take another shower.

I am in here because I came within a micro-metre of picking Rose up, throwing her on my bed and ravishing her to within an inch of her life.

The worst part about it, is she's naïve enough to imagine that sex is what I want from her, the way I want her.

No, not naïve. Innocent.

And I never, ever want to take that innocence away from her.

I never want anyone to take that innocence away from her.

"Malfoy, you idiot" I scold myself, prepared to bash my head against the cold tile of the bathroom.

I grab my grey towel from the towel rail, and feel like crying into it.

There is a timid knock at the bathroom door.

"Scorpius, I need to get a shower." Rose reminds me that I have had quite the monopoly on the bathroom all morning.

"Come in" I reply, my stomach dancing weirdly.

She tries the door, realises it's locked, and there is a pause of a few moments, whilst she works the 'Alohomora' charm.

My hair is damp again, and I don't know why this bothers me so much as I put my school uniform back on.

"I'm seeing McGonagall again after class" Rose says gently, taking her toothbrush out of the glass holder, and squeezing toothpaste onto it.

She does the same for mine, holding it out to me, wordlessly.

The silence is uneasy as we brush out teeth together, despite the fact that in the mirror we look like the image of domestic bliss.

Marital bliss, even.

Merlin, there's that word again.

"You look stressed" Rose comments, taking her hair out of its ponytail, and tossing it around.

"Not stressed" I respond, drying my hands, realising how short I sound too late.

Rose sighs, and tugs at the bottom of the t-shirt she's wearing as pyjamas.

"Whoa!" I yelp, turning my back to her, "I'm still here."

"For real?" Rose asks dryly, "I hadn't noticed."

I have a simultaneous urge to run out the bathroom, yell at her until my voice is hoarse, and kiss her senseless.

The fact that all these desires overcome me at once, and that they're all so conflicting means that I'm left momentarily stunned, just looking at Rose, standing in her underwear.

"Oh, come on Scorpius" she exclaims, almost angrily, "I'm an adult, you're plenty experienced, and we're in a relationship. It was only a matter of time until you saw me in my underwear, considering that we've been sleeping in the same bed!"

Fight, or flight?

"Stop making this so bloody difficult for me!"

I view raising my voice as a sign of weakness; if it can't be conveyed intelligently through words at a regular volume, it isn't worth saying, but my voice is significantly raised now.

"I'm going to Care of Magical Creatures."

The volume of my voice has returned to normal, if slightly cold, as I leave Rose standing in a state of undress in our bathroom.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Al asks immediately, on my sitting down at the table.

There's no point in asking him how he guessed, it's fairly obvious that I'm miserable.

Very slowly, I turn my hazel eyes to look into his considered face, and mutter in a muted tone, "He really does not want to sleep with me."

I don't know what I'd expected from Albus, it's not like I've ever discussed this sort of thing with him before, and therefore his response is welcomingly comforting.

Rubbing his thumb over the hand I have resting on the table, he soothes, "It's really early days, Rosie. Maybe you should see it as a good thing, it's a sign that he respects you, because he's not treating you in the same way that he's appallingly treated other girls."

Deep inside, I know that my cousin is making perfect sense, but I still can't seem to accept it.

"But how else am I supposed to show him how much I-?" I leave my sentence dangling, not quite ready, emotionally, to fill it in.

Al senses my reluctance, and adds, "And anyway, this relationship's been going for a few weeks at most, it's probably a good idea to take things slowly, not to get carried away."

The ever level-headed cousin is talking with a flawless logic that simply can't contain my feelings.

So maybe it took me a little while to see Scorpius properly for who he is, but it doesn't mean that I have to overcompensate when finding the right time to show my love on _that _physical level.

"It's different Al" I sigh, "You wouldn't understand."

I sound condescending, I know. Like just because I'm experiencing this new feeling that Al hasn't, he'll find it impossible to comprehend. I guess that inside I'm still seething that I was stupid enough to lose out on six years of Scorpius, on account of familial prejudice.

And I'm taking it out on Al, merely because he's in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

"You're right" Al responds sadly, "I probably couldn't, but it doesn't mean that I won't try and help you in any way possible."

If feasible, I despise myself more for Al's sympathy; I've been so wrapped up in myself, or Danny, or Scorpius this term that I haven't stopped to see how Al's doing, whether he has any potential love interests on the cards, or even if he just wants a chat.

I make the greatest attempt to rectify this misdemeanour, starting now.

"Forget me and Scorpius, how're you? I haven't spoken to you nearly enough recently."

This serves the dual purpose of salving my conscience, and helping to forget my 'Scorpius predicament.'

And, uncharacteristically, Al spiels out a short history of his fortnight, and some names that I haven't heard mentioned before pop up. I guess he's had to learn a little more independence in the past few weeks, since I haven't been giving him the proper attention he deserves.

But I like the slightly more charismatic Al, I think it's a good change for him.

* * *

Lily Potter just so happens to be there, as I'm walking through the Entrance Hall, it's not as if I intentionally sought her out. And since she's there, I call out, "Potter. A word, if you please?"

The pretentious haughty mode of talking is my defence mechanism, I just can't help it.

She seems obliging enough, changing her path, so that she ends up by my side.

"Scorpius, you called?"

Mini-Potter has this way of being subservient and in control at the same time that would probably make a weaker man drool, and I notice that her skirt has gotten considerably shorter, and her blouse tighter, since the departure of James Potter. She'd easily turn my head, I have to admit, if I didn't need and want her cousin so much.

I nod curtly, slightly aloof, to compensate for the fact that I'm seeking advice from a young girl.

"I take it this is regarding Rose?" she probes, when I prove unwilling to open up.

Another nod, but the question that I want to ask her won't formulate in my mind properly.

"Regarding Rose and sex, maybe?" she continues questioningly, her eyes dancing knowingly.

Sex has never been an awkward subject for me, I view it as a perfectly legitimate bodily function, satisfying on a physical level, and nothing more.

But here, attempting to have this conversation, is more than awkward, because I have the feeling that sex with Rose will not be a purely physical experience, but much, much more.

"But you're not sleeping with her?" Mini-Potter's questions show precisely how intuitive she is; she's answering her own queries, in effect.

"That's right" I respond.

"But you want to?" she adds. Lily Potter certainly knows her cousin.

"You seem to understand exactly" I admit easily.

"No" she murmurs softly, "There's something I'm not quite getting."

Since she seems to be understanding the situation with such clarity, I say nothing.

"Ah" she stops, and smiles slowly, "She wants to. There's nothing stopping her, there's something stopping you."

All of a sudden, my spur of the moment decision isn't seeming like such a good idea.

"Actually, Potter, it doesn't matter, forget I said anything."

Despite the fact that she bids me farewell, and turns away, she evidently hasn't forgotten, because moments later, as I'm walking away, she turns back and advises, "You both want it Scorpius. Rose can't wait around forever. Just be safe, okay? And remember, you're her first."

And for a split second, I get a glance of a Lily Potter that isn't flirtatious or shallow, but sensitive and mature, and I feel that I ought to tell her that the refreshing change in attitude makes her a good deal more attractive.

But then, the moment passes, and she flicks her hair out of her face in a vacuous sort of way that looks rehearsed, and she's back to Mini-Potter, who presents the challenge of being James Potter's little sister, and is therefore desirable, regardless.

Except to me.

In the past few weeks, my 'type' has changed significantly, and I have Rose to thank for that.

* * *

"So."

The one word sounds pathetic, especially since it converts into such a lingering silence.

Despite the fact that it's practically October, and summer is long gone, Scorpius and I are sitting outside, enjoying the mild(ish) weather.

Well, maybe 'enjoying' is the wrong word.

We're sitting on the grass, that silence manifesting itself between us.

"So" Scorpius repeats, his gaze fixed intently on me.

This is communication breakdown at its very worst.

"About this morning-"

I am cut off abruptly by Scorpius' mouth crushing against mine, and his mouth tells a story of hunger and lust without using words.

But it doesn't feel right.

Not here, not now.

I pull myself away, distancing myself.

"What brought that on?" I question, confused by his sudden u-turn.

His cool response is, "I thought that was what you wanted from me."

I can't deny that; he's perfectly correct. I suppose I just wanted it on my terms, and not sitting on the grassy bank just shy of the Forbidden Forest. And then, I realise that I don't want Scorpius to expect me to want to sleep with him, I want him to work for it, I want him to be the suave, smooth, slightly arrogant Slytherin that he was for all those other girls.

It's such a double standard, I know, wanting to be treated the way all those simpering bimbos gush about, but I can't help the feeling.

"See, Rose" Scorpius explains, a hint of irritation in his voice, "This morning, you wanted to take it fast, I wanted to take it slow. This afternoon, I want to take it fast, but, all of a sudden you want to take it slow. Why is that exactly?"

He's asking me to explain the inexplicable; perhaps it's pure apprehension, maybe I'm just fickle, who knows? I certainly don't.

"I suppose I just want it to be on my terms" I answer meekly, throwing a glance towards the menacing Forest.

Scorpius laughs slightly, and says, "A sentiment I can entirely understand."

What Scorpius doesn't understand is the anxiety that I'm experiencing when faced with the prospect that my first time is most likely going to be with a guy who has already slept with half the female population of my school, who'll have expectations, and who I'm undoubtedly in love with, against my better judgement.

And then, there's this perpetual nagging fear that once Scorpius has had me, he'll lose interest, and I'll return to the despised, uncouth Weasley that he once took me for.

"It's just that, every time we've ever spoken about it you've brushed me off, and whenever I feel like I might want to, you totally withdraw all physical contact. I guess you just surprised me."

That too is the truth, and it is one that doesn't necessitate a long winded explanation of my emotional incapacities.

Scorpius' expression is open, which is progress, and I am in no rush for lunch to be over and to have to go to History of Magic. I figure that now is as good a time as ever to make a start on the entire issue, so I begin.

* * *

"Nobody's going to dispute that I'm as inexperienced as you are experienced, and that scares me senseless" Rose states, her eyes conveying her sincerity, "And I just want so much to connect with you on a level that I've never been able to share with anyone else before. I suppose it comes across as over-enthusiasm, because I know this won't mean the same to you as it will for me. You already know a million girls on that intimate level, girls you probably never had any real feelings for, so, I don't know, I'm determined to get you to be mine as soon as I can. I want you to be mine."

This is what I meant when I said sex could never be on a purely physical level between Rose and I.

As I attempt to find a way to convey to her exactly why she's so different from all the others, she continues, "And Scorpius, every single time you touch me, every time you kiss me, something strange happens. My body's on fire, and my mouths dry, and you're the only water than can satiate me."

She's all talked out, and she looks at me like she expects me to be repulsed, or surprised.

I'm neither.

She could never repulse me, she's far too beautiful for that, and I can be nothing but touched at her honesty.

I can't be surprised because I know the exact feeling that she's just described, because it's exactly how I feel when I'm with her, when she runs her hands through my hair, or kisses my bottom lip lightly, in that way she's prone to.

And now she's said it, told me exactly how she's thinking, I can see exactly why she's been so eager. She can't see that I love her; she thinks that she has to make me love her. She thinks that's how she can show how she feels for me.

"Silly Rose" I whisper into her hair, "I'd never hurt you."

She's been worried about that too, I realise suddenly. The actual physical aspect of sex, so I when I tell her that I'll never hurt her, I mean it both emotionally and physically.

Even though we've had this chat, cleared the air, so to speak, I know that it'll never be settled until I've shown her that while sex might not be a big deal for me, sex with her is the biggest deal.

"Listen to me Rose" I say, looking into her hazel eyes, "I was worried earlier, which is why I kissed you like that, and made the entire situation so despicably uncomfortable. Just know that from now on, it's up to you. We go as far as you like. Not me, you. Okay?"

I don't know why I don't just spit out the stupid words, "Rose Weasley, I love you."

I've said the words before, to her even, but that was a different kind of love.

This is the love that she meant when she asked whether I loved her, and I couldn't reply.

I just wish that she'd ask me the question again now, because I know that my instantaneous response would be, "With all my heart."

* * *

The fact that Hugo doesn't moan like the mummy's boy that he is when I, quite literally, bump into him on the way to Potions with Scorpius is quite surprising.

What is even more surprising is the fact that at the time I bump into him, he is engaged in an intimate conversation with Isabella DiNozzo.

"Hugo" I greet, the slight inflection in my voice making it questioning, without being too obvious.

"Rose" he returns, clearly aggrieved that his engagement with little DiNozzo has been broken off.

"Weasley."

This is Scorpius, and it is his friendly advice to my little brother not to lay a finger on Isabella, unless he wants to face the full force of DiNozzo's wrath.

The greetings circle around us, until I'm sure that I've said hello not only to every participant of the conversation, but also to a couple of portraits, and the little Rose voices inside my head.

"Nice day" Hugo comments lamely, and Scorpius nods in agreement.

"Yes, mild."

This is surpassing even my pain threshold, and my tolerance to pain is remarkably high.

"Well, I suppose we'll be seeing each other around" I say, tugging the back of Scorpius' robes subtly, in a sort of 'Quick, retreat' fashion.

With the long-legged strides of both couples, we are safely away from my brother, for the time being.

"Is he mad?" Scorpius stutters, as we clamber down to the Potions dungeons. "When DiNozzo finds out, your little brother is going to resemble the spectacular Hogwarts mashed potato."

A point I gave consideration to when formulating the plan, but which doesn't feel particularly important now.

"Character building" I reply cheerily, "The little squirt could do with toughening up a bit."

That, and the fact that once I speak to DiNozzo, and he realises that Hugo is merely a pawn in my game and that Isabella is only at threat of a broken heart when I decide she is, he might be willing to make that apology to Scorpius that I've been craving for the best part of a week.

"You're a ruthless big sister, you know that?" Scorpius asks, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

"He can cast a good enough Shield Charm" I point out, as if this legitimises my use of my brother, "I mean, in my family the Shield Charm is a basic necessity, like oxygen, or water."

Scorpius raises an eyebrow sceptically, and says, "Hugo's going to need more than a good Shield Charm if he's going to stop DiNozzo from murdering him."

"Oh, he'll be absolutely fine" I reassure Scorpius, so utterly convinced by my own leverage. "I mean, this is Phillipe DiNozzo, not Lord Voldemort."

I see a visible flinch in response to that name, even though everyone else in the entire world has no problem with it after more than twenty years.

"I wouldn't put it past DiNozzo, in all truthfulness" Scorpius admits, his head instinctively turning over his shoulder, despite the fact that Hugo and Isabella are long gone.

* * *

I glance over at Rose while she measures out liquids and weighs solids for the next stage of her potion. Her forehead is crinkled in concentration, and I wonder if I press any more about DiNozzo, she might actually have a panic attack.

But, as she lifts her head from her cauldron, the lines in her forehead disappear, and she asks cheerily, "Is that blueberry to you? The textbook says blueberry blue, but I'm not really all that sure what that looks like."

With her hair tied back to prevent any accidents, and her face all flushed from leaning over the gently bubbling cauldron, she looks much younger than her eighteen years.

"Er, yeah, sure, I think that looks blueberry-ish."

She smiles brightly at me, but before she can check her textbook for the next crucial step, I grab the top of her arm gently.

"Rosie" I say, warningly, and she turns back on hearing my sombre tone.

"What is it?" she asks, sounding anxious.

"You look after him, okay?" I finish, and Rose's face scrunches up in deliberation.

"Look after whom, precisely?" she queries, whilst mentally checking off the names of all the boys she knows.

My mouth has just opened, when she cuts me off with, "Oh, you mean Hugo!"

I nod, and she laughs softly at me. "Scorpius, Hugo is a big boy, and he certainly doesn't need me to look out for him. And, anyway, I happen to think that he and Isabella look really compatible together."

I try one last time to impress upon Rose how brutal DiNozzo can be, but I can tell before I get the first sentence out, that she won't take me seriously. "Rosie, honestly, you underestimate DiNozzo. I mean the guy _enjoys _inflicting immense pain on others, and I mean immense pain. Hugo wouldn't stand a chance again him alone, and that's before we add his perpetual bodyguards into the equation. Just make sure that he knows to tread carefully around that girl."

Even though Rose has decidedly not been listening to me, the tone in which I refer to Isabella DiNozzo grabs her attention.

"Are you sure you're not a big bother?" she teases me, although I was actually attempting to make myself sympathetic towards her brother's case.

"Most definitely not a big brother" I reply firmly, as Rose sprinkles ground up holly leaves into her cauldron, causing the liquid inside to change into a violent shade of orange.

"I can't reiterate this to you anymore, Scorpius. Hugo. Will. Be. Fine."

I sigh, and turn away from Rose.

She has that stubborn look etched into her face, the one that tells me no matter how hard I try to convince her that I know better, she will continue to ignore me.

"I had to go for the stubborn one, didn't I?" I ask myself, and, for the first time in that lesson, turn my attention to my cauldron.

* * *

"Scorpius, stop fussing! Of course I'm fine to go and see McGonagall on my own" I scold, on exiting the Potions dungeon, after an excruciating double period on the uses of belladonna in potions.

He gives me one last backwards glance, which, coupled with the fourteen or so kisses is a more than adequate farewell, and I turn the other way down the empty corridor to take the most direct route to McGonagall's office.

That is, until a figure steps out of the shadows, into my path.

"Fancy seeing you here, Weasley" he mocks, echoing my own words.

I smile pleasantly and reply, "Phillipe, how wonderful to see you! Now, why don't you find a nice dark corner to die in quietly?"

He tuts at me, advancing slowly, like a wild animal hunting its prey.

"That wasn't very nice, was it now, Rosie?"

There is marked difference between the way Scorpius calls me 'Rosie' and the way DiNozzo does it; from Scorpius' mouth the name sounds all soft and gentle. From DiNozzo, well, that's an entirely different matter; let's just say he uses a tone that most people reserve exclusively for expletives.

"I believe this is known as 'invasion of personal space'" I comment lightly, as DiNozzo continues to approach me.

He doesn't reply, just keeps his eyes fixed on mine. Danny's eyes were chocolate brown, Scorpius' are steely silver, but DiNozzo's can be described in no way other than black. Ebony black. It's quite disconcerting.

"Was there something you wanted in particular, DiNozzo, or was this just a social call?" I ask, lifting an eyebrow easily, and glancing tiredly at him.

"Oh, I have every intention of getting what I want from you" he replies, and I reason that since he hasn't even got his wand drawn, he can't do much damage.

How wrong can one girl be?

Because Phillipe DiNozzo opens his mouth slowly, trails a finger down my left cheek (at which I shudder, naturally, but nonetheless find myself paralysed) and presses his lips into mine.

His kiss doesn't generate fireworks, I'd actually have to consider Avada-ing myself if it had, but I don't pull away. I don't know why in Merlin's name not, I quite enjoy the whole mutual fidelity thing that Scorpius and I have going on, but it's like I'm under a spell, a spell that only suave, tall, dark Italian men with ebony black eyes can cast.

He breaks away, his eyes moving slowly from my eyes to my mouth, my neck, and further down still. "There, now we both have a little leverage, don't we?"

I don't entirely register what he means until after he's left my dumb-struck standing in the middle of a dark corridor.

The first move I make is to chew my bottom lip in utter anxiety, my next is to lightly touch my lips, the lips that can no longer claim to belong entirely to Scorpius Malfoy, because they've been tainted.

And all of a sudden, I am very, very troubled about Hugo's physical well-being.

* * *

"How'd it go?" I ask Rose from the coffee table, as she enters the room, unexpectedly pale.

I naturally, assume the worst on the Ball situation, so I'm surprised when she replies, "Oh, it went fine. She's given me permission, and I'm allowed to invite my parents and Harry as the guests of honour. She seems quite enthusiastic about it."

Rose's tone is not that of a girl who has just been granted permission to hold a Ball she's one hundred percent dedicated to. "Rosie, what's up?" I ask softly, rising from my position on the sofa, and crossing the room to stand near her, since she's leaning against the wall near the Portrait Hole, and hasn't managed to make it all that far into the sitting room.

Rose brushes a hand across her forehead and whispers, "It's probably nothing, just a headache and a bit of a temperature. Just a cold, that's all."

I place the back of my hand on her forehead, and she shudders under my touch. "You don't have a raised temperature. Are you sure that's it?"

If Rose is merely approximating illness, she's doing a really good job of it; her face is pale and drawn, she's shivering, and her eyes are devoid of any light.

"Perhaps I should put you to bed?" I query, and since my mother was never that brilliant a nurse-maid when I was sick, I actually have no idea whether I should try to keep her awake, or whether she needs to drink lots of fluids, or if a simple Cold Draught will completely cure her.

"No, no" she protests, batting my worried hands away. "Too much to do; people to speak to, dress to design, invitation list to put together."

She usually revels in these administrative necessities, and I've never met a girl yet who doesn't simply adore designing dresses, so I take the lack of passion in her voice as a sign of real sickness. "You look anxious Rosie" I comment, as I lead her slowly from her wall support, to a sofa.

If it was a reaction I was seeking from her, this comment certainly has the desired effect.

"Anxious?" she repeats, her pitch shrill. "Anxious?" she questions again, "I'm not anxious, what would I be anxious for?"

A fake giggle follows these words, and her entire demeanour clearly says, "I'm anxious about something."

I drop it; she clearly does not want to talk about it.

"About the Shield Charm" she adds, twisting a strand of already curly, fiery hair around the index finger of her right hand, "How good would it have to be to deflect anything, say, you could throw at me?"

Ah. Substitute 'you' for 'Phillipe DiNozzo' and 'me' for 'Hugo' and I believe we have the root of her problem. Rose is finally concerned for her little brother.


	30. Of Jam and Gentlemen

**A/N: I realised earlier that when I started writing this, I was years younger than Rose is in the story, and I had all these romantic notions that people of her age have boyfriends and lives that are full of exciting events and all manner of fantastic things. As I write this, I'm now older than she is here, and my life is still utterly devoid of boyfriends and exciting events and things. Therefore, that cannot be the excuse for the deplorable lack of attention I've paid to all my writing. The truth is that as I get older and learn more about life this stuff starts to feel very slushy and unrealistic, and therefore much harder to write. Hardly the attitude of a truly serious writer, I know, and now that it's summer and I don't have to write essays about Rwandan genocide and liberal individualism, I've promised myself that I will dedicate a substantial chunk of my time every day to writing. Please don't mistake this for my updating every single day, I'm far too old and decrepit to be writing that fast any more, but if I can do a chapter a week, I'd be happy with myself. Enough of my rambling, read and don't hate me too much please.**

**Disclaimer: I might start recycling old ones, noone can remember them from the first few chapters, right?**

I wake in the middle of the night, covered in sweat.

It is a nightmare that has woken me. Last time it was a nightmare about physical contact with Scorpius, this time it is the same. Only with DiNozzo as Scorpius' substitute.

I stare up at the dark ceiling, glad that I am in my own bed for a change.

My dilemma is simple. Tell Scorpius about what happened with DiNozzo, because after all, it was a kiss which he initiated, and which meant absolutely nothing. The threat here is that Scorpius will go absolutely psycho, because he's not exactly one for sharing, and Phillipe DiNozzo is not exactly his best friend at the moment.

Alternatively, because it meant absolutely nothing, and because it was DiNozzo who kissed me, I can ignore it, pretend like it never happened, and leave Scorpius blissfully ignorant. The danger here, of course, is that somebody else will tell Scorpius about it, and then it will seem like I've hidden it because it meant something, and he'll go psycho anyway.

Rock.

Hard place.

Rock.

Hard place.

Neither seems like a particularly viable option to me.

I still cannot fathom why DiNozzo did it. I mean, I could understand if he'd just beaten Hugo half to death. He's a big brother, she's a vulnerable little sister, it makes sense. But to drag me into it?

I realise far too late that meddling with situations that are not technically any of my business is not particularly clever. Especially as, it seems, I'm not that fantastic at meddling.

The only option, it would appear, is to pry my little brother away from his little sister. And judging by their behaviour yesterday, this might not be as easy as one might assume.

I find myself wishing that I'd just used the Imperius curse on DiNozzo, despite the difficulties I had with it last time.

I go as far as wondering if it's too late to do just that. It'd be much more difficult logistically than with Scorpius. For a start he is continually surrounded by his thuggish 'bodyguards.' On the other hand, I think that I despise him much more than I have ever despised Scorpius (and I really did despise Scorpius) so that'd be plenty of malice to pour into an Unforgivable.

It's all hypothetical, of course.

I have most definitely learnt my lesson from last time. Unforgivable curses are not like a funny Jinx that might give you a rash, or turn your legs to jelly. The Imperius is about having complete sovereignty over another human being. Taking away their freedom. Enslaving them.

Oh, but it sounds so good!

I hate myself a little bit as I lie there staring intently at the ornate cornices. I know in my heart of hearts that slavery of any description is morally reprehensible, be it House Elves or the Imperius Curse. But the tiniest part of me yearns to be able to control DiNozzo. Not even because I hate him, not really. Just because I want Scorpius to be happy.

I twist and turn in my bed sheets, trying my hardest to get back to sleep, even though I know that it's only a matter of time before I'm woken by nightmares again.

I know I don't really deserve to sleep, nightmares or not, because I've created a horrendously messy situation, one which is all my fault, and which I'm going to have to work my own way out of.

There is no Teddy to run to for help, there is no James.

Why couldn't I have just respected Scorpius' wishes, why did I have to force him into telling me about the whole DiNozzo situation in the first place? Why did I think I had the right to try and change that situation when he clearly didn't want me to?

Because I'm Rose bloody Weasley, that's why.

* * *

Rose looks a little less peaky when she finally emerges from her bedroom.

A little less peaky, but a lot more tired.

"I didn't sleep particularly well" she explains, when I confront her about the dark circles underneath her eyes.

Concern does not even begin to cover what I feel. I'm quite sure that she needs a sleeping draught.

"Rosie, please, go back to bed, let me look after you" I plead, attempting to propel her back into her bedroom.

"Because nobody is going to notice both of us missing from class" she replies scathingly, the irritable little crinkle between her eyes flaring, "We take all the same classes, Scorpius."

"Not all the same" I return petulantly, "I don't take Ancient Runes, or Arithmancy. And you don't take Magical Creatures. So really, it'd only be McGonagall who'd notice we were gone. And Thomas. And Longbottom."

"And Lorento, and Binns" Rose adds to the tally, smugly satisfied that, as always, she is right.

"Binns wouldn't notice if the entire class skipped" I argue back, determined not to be defeated, "I'm pretty sure he didn't notice the War either time around, probably went right on teaching as the castle fell to pieces around him."

"Not the point" Rose says dismissively, swinging her school bag onto her shoulder. "Don't think you can waylay me with pointless jabber, Scorpius, I know you too well. I am going to class, and so are you. I'll catch up on sleep tonight."

This is a complete lie, and we both know it. She is anxious about Hugo all of a sudden, when twenty four hours ago she was adamant that he was perfectly old enough to handle himself. I wonder what's changed?

"I bet Hugo would be insulted by the lack of faith that you have in him" I tease her gently, as we clamber out of the Portrait Hole and are waved at by Florence, who is still smiling in a sickly fashion after us.

"Why would it have anything to do with Hugo?" Rose demands coolly, her eyes dead straight in front of her.

This throws me.

I know how very well Rose can mask her emotions. She spent most of the past seven years doing just that, apparently. But, I know her now. And she knows me. And we trust one another.

I come to the conclusion that if anything really were wrong with regard to her brother she wouldn't be able to keep it from me.

"So, if it's not Hugo's safety keeping you up, what is it?" I ask her, hoping to coax some sort of information out of her.

"Why are you so adamant that there is something wrong with me?" she snaps back, shooting me a glare that reminds me of the time in the first year she put a Full Body Bind on me, then, with the help of two cousins, dragged me behind a statue on the third floor, and left me there for a good thirteen hours. She looks like she is contemplating repeating the event.

"Okay, okay" I concede, "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, I get it."

Her look softens slightly, and she bites her lip guiltily.

"Sorry" she mumbles, looking up from beneath her eyelashes. "I'm being a right handful, aren't I?"

I do not agree with her, for fear of her wrath.

"I can be such a drama queen at times" she rambles on, her shoes click-click-clicking along the polished hallways. "I don't mean to be, I just have a tendency to exaggerate everything."

"How's the ball stuff going?" I enquire, thinking that this will take her mind off whatever it is that isn't wrong with her.

She shrugs her shoulders. "Fine, I guess. Still have a fair amount to do; I wanted to send individual invitations to every student, so that'll take some time. And I have to make a decision about which band to book."

"I seem to remember your cousin James is well acquainted with a band?" I remind her, and for the first time today, she really smiles.

"Merlin, don't remind me. I do worry about the boy sometimes" she replies, shuddering. "No, they are most definitely not on the list, familial connections or not."

"String quartet, maybe?" I suggest, "It is a ball after all."

She looks at me a little oddly, before smiling very slightly, "You're not nearly as useless as you look, are you, Mr. Malfoy?"

A kind of back-handed compliment, to say the least, but then I doubt that Rose has ever given an outright compliment to anyone. Ever.

"Don't worry about me Scorpius" she insists, as we walk down the length of the Gryffindor House table to breakfast, "I'm big enough, and ugly enough to look after myself."

"Big enough, maybe" I shoot back, "But ugly enough? Never."

Rose flushes ever so slightly, her cheeks tinged with the subtlest shade of pink, and she opens her mouth, and takes a deep breath, as though about to make a declaration of war, or something equally as important.

"Strawberry, or raspberry jam?" she asks, taking her seat at the table.

I merely shoot a puzzled look into the back of her head, which she's turned to greet Roxanne.

* * *

Shoot. Drat. Darn. Blast.

Terrible, terrible human being.

That is me, by the way.

Firstly, because I'm not paying the slightest attention to Roxanne, who is reciting the magical properties of dragon blood, and who I am supposed to be correcting.

Secondly, because I'm a massive coward.

On the way down to breakfast, I made the definitive decision to tell Scorpius about DiNozzo, consequences or not. Because I really do love him, and I don't want to keep things from him, and he would find out. He just would.

And then, I come out with 'Strawberry jam, or raspberry?'?

I am so unworthy of the Weasley name, it's untrue.

I only half notice Albus slump down opposite me.

"Are you alright, Potter?" I vaguely hear Scorpius ask him, as he has gathered that I'm not going to.

"Rose!" Roxanne shrieks, or, at least, seems to shriek, just about pulling me out of my despondent self deprecation.

"What?" I demand, and she looks affronted by the slightly savage note in my voice.

She doesn't recoil though, as most other people would, this is Roxanne Weasley we're talking about.

"I've forgotten the twelfth. What is it?"

"Do I look like I care, Roxanne?"

Everybody around me stops abruptly. The clatter of Louis' butter knife onto his plate is the only sound to break the shocked silence.

"Rose?" Scorpius' voice is low and gentle, "That was a little uncalled for, don't you think?"

Roxanne looks at me sideways, and I notice the look of hurt in her eyes. Not that she'd ever admit it. And then, with a maturity that she certainly didn't inherit from her father, she asks me softly, "Rose, are you okay?"

I don't know what it is in her voice that has my hands shaking violently. I drop my knife quickly, and rest my hands on my lap. Too late though, she has seen it, as have Scorpius and Al.

"Want to go for a walk?" she suggests, holding her hand out to me beneath the table. I look to Scorpius, who has 'worried' written across his face, and then look down to Roxanne's hand.

"Sure, a walk would be good" I answer, my voice that of a five year old who's in trouble for stealing from the cookie jar. "See you in class" I mumble to Al and Scorpius, whose heads are practically glued together. The difference between the shining blonde and the jet black is more apparent than it's ever been. I don't know why it makes me upset, it ought to make me happy, but, hey, from an objective point of view, I can say I'm pretty much an emotional wreck right now.

DiNozzo nods his head coolly at me from the head of the Slytherin table; it appears that he has slipped into Scorpius' role with ease.

I avert my eyes, in what I hope is a causal fashion, but I swear I can still feel his eyes watching me leave.

"Did Phillipe DiNozzo just acknowledge your existence?" Roxanne quizzes me, as we head towards the front door. "I'm going to Care of Magical creatures, by the way" she informs me in passing, "So, it'll just be as though you're walking me there. But anyway, DiNozzo?"

"I always forget what it's like to walk with any of you other than Al" I side step her question by reminiscing.

However, Roxanne Weasley is a determined young woman, with all of Grandma Molly's will.

"DiNozzo, Rose. He just nodded at you. Are you not in the slightest intrigued as to why all of a sudden, not only are you and Malfoy seeing each other, but members of Slytherin are routinely acting as if you actually exist?"

I have no idea why the relationship between Malfoy and I would in any way appear connected to DiNozzo, before I realise that I have subverted some major norms this term. A Weasley and a Malfoy _together _is probably something Hogwarts never thought it would see.

"DiNozzo, he was probably just being polite. After all, I am with Scorpius" I reply, knowing how very unconvincing I sound. I have no idea whether it is general knowledge that Scorpius is no longer on the Slytherin Quidditch team, so I don't go as far as adding "They do play on the same team, you know."

Roxanne, however, is very much like Lily when it comes to cynicism regarding my life. "Yeah, right, that'll be it, Rose. DiNozzo being polite." The thought makes her chuckle for a little while, as we approach the Forbidden Forest, and her class. "But really, Rosie" she adds, "You've been acting weird lately. And this isn't about Malfoy. You've even got him freaked out, which has got to be saying something!"

I give Roxanne a hug, something which I have not done in a long time, and whisper in her ear "Longevity, Roxanne."

If she had been Lily, she would have squealed and thrown her arms around my neck, but since she is not, she squeezes my hand tightly, and smiles prettily. "I'm an idiot sometimes, that should have been the first one I remembered."

And I leave her standing in front of Hagrid's hut, all alone, but not looking particularly concerned for it.

Roxanne Weasley is a very beautiful person.

* * *

Rose looks more like her usual self when she appears in Potions.

"Roxanne okay?" I ask, testing the waters. She does not appear to want to answer questions about her own well-being at the moment, but I figure she will not mind replying for her cousin.

"She remembered the twelfth" Rose answers, if not happily, then without any tangible worry in her voice. There has been a lot of worry in her voice since last night.

As we labour on towards the completion of an antidote to an 'Irrepressible Giggles' Potion, I notice that her concentration is not solely focused upon her cauldron.

Every so often, especially when she's measuring an ingredient, or chopping the root of a plant, or something like that, she swings her hair around so that it is no longer forming a curtain over her face, and sneaks a peak across the dungeon.

My first guess is that she must be looking for Potter.

Then I realise that her cousin is in fact working behind us, and she must know that, since he periodically leans forwards to us, and asks for instructions (he has forgotten his copy of the textbook, apparently it is currently propping up the unequal leg of his four poster bed.)

I spend a while musing over who it is that she could be looking for. Certainly, it can't be Mariah, Rose is incredibly vocal about her contempt for the girl, which makes it very unlikely that she'd be searching her out during Potions.

Ditto for the rest of my House.

Although, her gaze is concentrated on that part of the classroom where the Slytherins (except myself, obviously, who avoids them like the plague) are working.

Specifically, DiNozzo.

Once again, this leads me to the conclusion that something has happened that means she fears for Hugo's safety. Not that she will tell me what that something is, of course.

I have, however, learnt that bringing DiNozzo's name up provokes quite a reaction in her, so I refrain from doing so for the time being. Instead, I determine to speak to him myself.

Despite the fact that I am no longer the valued member of Slytherin society that I once was, he was offering me my place on the Quidditch team back the other day, so he ought to listen to me.

The fact that Isabella DiNozzo is causing this much fuss irritates me a little bit. There is nothing special about the girl. She is, most would admit, quite good looking, but in an incredibly predictable, banal, sort of way. There is no personality about her whatsoever.

She's precisely the sort of girl that I was always after.

I can see why, to Hugo Weasley, she would be irresistible. It makes me quite glad that I've grown up a little bit.

Rose is taking very little notice of anything that is not DiNozzo, or her valerian root, so I take the opportunity to surreptitiously turn around and address Potter.

"Albus, I need you to preoccupy Rose at the end of this lesson. Get her to take you back up to our room, anyway you can."

Albus Potter's brow crinkles, not precisely in the same way that Rose's does, but very similarly, before he responds, "I'm not even going to ask, Scorpius. But sure, yeah, course I will." And he carries on stirring his cauldron calmly. I think we have both registered the fact that 'Potter' and 'Malfoy' have become 'Albus' and 'Scorpius' respectively, but there's no time to put up a plaque to commemorate the event, because Rose has noticed that I am not focused on my antidote.

"Scorpius?" she asks quizzically, looking between Albus and I questioningly.

"Quill was it?" her cousin replies smoothly, passing one over to me, the shadow of a sly smile threatening to impress itself upon his mouth.

"Thanks" I say, taking the feathered pen from him, and putting it down on my desk. "Lost mine" I explain to Rose, suddenly becoming heavily engrossed in writing notes in the margin of my textbook.

Rose shoots an even more puzzled glance at me, and sighs lightly. "The pair of you are utterly bizarre" she announces, and the smile on Albus' face is now unmistakeable.

"Love you too Rosie" he tells her, as Lorento glides past us, and orders us to stop making noise and get on with our work before he consigns us all to an eternity of damnation.

Well, his precise words were 'a week of detention', but this is easily translated to eternal damnation should it have to be carried out in his presence.

* * *

Al practically frog marches me out of the dungeon at the end of our class.

"So" he begins, taking me by the arm and steering me towards a staircase, "How did that go for you? Not too difficult?"

I am still craning my neck backwards to see where Scorpius has got to. "Al, can we wait for Scorpius please?" I ask rationally, although this has absolutely no effect on my cousin.

"No time to wait" he replies quickly, propelling me forwards ever faster, "I need to talk to you about a very serious matter."

I automatically assume that something is the matter with Lily, or that one of our parents is ill, so it comes as a massive shock to me when he announces, "I think I'm in love with Scarlett Godwin."

Despite his attempts to keep me moving, I freeze, stock still.

"What?" I almost screech, in a terribly Lily-like fashion. "Since when? Seriously? Al, why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugs his shoulders, and answers, "I have told you."

I am far too busy to display my exasperation.

"No, really, Albus, since when?" I enquire again, having utterly forgotten Scorpius and determined only to get Al into the safety of my Common Room, so we can have a good chat.

"Since the middle of last year" he replies serenely, sweeping his messy black hair out of his eyes, "And, before you ask, no she doesn't have any idea."

My exasperation is too much to contain by this point.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake" I complain, "How is the girl supposed to know if you don't tell her? Or at least give her some sort of indication?"

We are, by now, stood at the entrance to the room I share with Scorpius, and it is Florence that points out his absence.

"You might want to send him away when he turns up" I council her, taking Al firmly by the elbow and dragging him inside, "This could take quite some time."

Albus makes noises of protest, as though he has suddenly had second thoughts about this 'being in love' business, but I force him onto a sofa, sitting opposite him with a gleam of authority in my eye.

"Spill."

One word, that is all.

At first Al is tentative, to say the least. I get all the cursory details; how she'd picked up a book he'd dropped outside the library during the summer term last year, the way she smiled and how pretty it was, how much he loved her hair, which is almost as dark as his.

And then, from some deep recess of his soul, he's describing to me the precise way that she makes him feel, even when she glances at him for the shortest of moments. Not that I'm at liberty to divulge these most precious of secrets.

By the time that he has finished, my mouth is hanging open in utter awe.

"Well." I exhale slowly, and look him over. "You're a dark horse Albus Potter, I'll give you that."

He shrugs, loosening his gold and red tie, and sighs, "Nothing's ever going to happen, so I didn't think there was any point bothering people over it, least of all you. You've had enough on your plate this year."

Cue irreconcilable feelings of guilt, and my most apologetic face. "Come on Al, your dad's Harry Potter, for the love of all that's magical, how could she not be interested?"

"And my brother's James Potter" Al retaliates, smiling sadly.

This makes me inexplicably angry. James Sirius Potter has a habit of ruining people's lives even when he's not within the immediate vicinity.

"Wow, that's some amazing self-esteem you have there, Al" I snipe, because although I do have to admit that it is mostly James' fault for being an arrogant prat, Albus is also to blame for allowing himself to be overshadowed his entire life.

"Rose, you have no idea what it's like living between him and Lily, do you?" he asks, and I am forced to concede on this point.

My parents were quite sensible enough to only have two children, therefore circumventing any threat of 'middle child syndrome.'

"We are on such a tangent here, Al. We can deal with your James issues at a later date" I promise, looking over the gloomy figure sprawled across my sofa. "Right now, I want to sort this whole thing with Scarlett."

I figure that since I match-made so successfully between Hugo and Isabella DiNozzo, Al and Scarlett should be a doddle. I mean, I never even really wanted Hugo and Isabella to get together for real; I just wanted my little brother to feel like a threat to DiNozzo. And now they're wandering around the castle all happy and bubbly and chatty and whatever. Albus and Scarlett Godwin will be a piece of cake.

Okay, so I know that I pretty much gave up meddling this morning, but when there's a chance to get Al together with a genuinely sweet girl, thereby creating two immensely happy people, who can resist?

* * *

"Malfoy?"

"Take a walk with me, won't you DiNozzo?" It sickens me a little bit to be so polite to the person that I fear is making Rose's existence a living nightmare, but I do it none the less. A little Malfoy grit, you might call it.

He signals to the Taylor twins that their presence is not required, as this is a gentleman's matter. I swear Edward actually scratches his head at this unexpected freedom from his prescribed duties, but both he and his brother amble away heavily, leaving DiNozzo and I alone in a corridor that is about as cold as his eyes.

"Now then, my old friend, how can I help you? Reconsidered my Quidditch proposition?" A glass of Firewhisky and a Havana cigar and it would have been like any Ministry business deal, honestly.

I ignore this attempt at civility by DiNozzo; I have used the same casually offhand tone far too many times myself for it to induce any sort of feeling in me.

"This isn't about Quidditch" I reply stonily, walking unhurriedly in the direction that he has indicated with a lofty sweep of his arm.

"Ah" he says knowingly, an irritating smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, a smirk which I would quite happily wipe off with a well landed right hook. "Weasley, I presume?"

"That's _Miss _Weasley to you. Have some respect" I demand, through gritted teeth.

"Respect for what?" he retaliates, "A sufficiently attractive redhead with a blood traitor for a father, and a Mudblood for a mother?"

My fists bunch tightly at my side, an unforgivable display of emotion which he notes immediately.

"What is it that you've said to her?" I continue, as though my blood isn't boiling in my veins.

"A real gentleman never kisses and tells" he answers cryptically, his finely chiseled Italian cheekbones displayed prominently now, as he smiles rather than smirks.

An odd turn of phrase, I reflect, but he clearly has this 'Lord of the Manor' image going on in his head, which I have neither the patience nor inclination to burst.

"And anyway, oughtn't you to be able to find something like this out from the lady in question?" he adds, looking questioningly at me.

Now, DiNozzo and I were essentially created from the same mould, and to him, that's a perfectly valid question. The type of girl that he sees, the type of girl that his parents have promised him to, can be broken with a few flirtingly whispered words, or the promise of material goods, when they're being truly stubborn.

Rose Weasley is by no stretch of the imagination that sort of girl.

"Look DiNozzo" I sigh, finally having had enough, and just wanting to get back to Rose, "Rose loves Hugo, I love Rose. If anything were to happen to him, she would not be happy, and that would make me angry. Not angry like the time you slept with Mariah, which was frankly amusing. Angry like I will sever your head from your pathetic little body. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal" he answers, his jaw tightening slightly. Phillipe DiNozzo is unaccustomed to being threatened. That he does not retaliate even surprises me slightly.

"Might I give you a little piece of advice?" he asks, as he turns away from me, as I have made it quite obvious that I have said everything that I want.

I neither want nor need his advice, especially as I imagine it will pertain to my relationship, but I nod my consent coolly nonetheless.

"Girls like her need a tight leash. You can never let them forget who wears the trousers, or you might just find yourself being humiliated. Publicly."

Typical. When a DiNozzo threatens, they aren't even man enough to do it overtly.

"Thank you for the advice DiNozzo. I'll take that into account."

There's no way on earth that I will 'take that into account', but I haven't the energy to explain that my relationship with Rose is far less liable to be undermined by my issues about my masculinity than his is.

We walk away from one another, I to go and see Rose, and he to torture some first years, I imagine.

I'm feeling quite pleased with myself as I ascend the staircase leisurely, certain that once I reassure Rose that Hugo has no need to feel threatened, she will return to her usual, less depressed, self.

I can't help but turn over the words 'A real gentleman never kisses and tells' in my head though. It was such a cryptic thing for him to say.

And doesn't the phrase usually run 'A lady never kisses and tells'?

I mean, he couldn't have meant it literally, could he?

Because, that would mean that he and Rose….

No.

DiNozzo I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw him, but Rose I trust implicitly.

Just no.

**P.S: You'll be massively happy to know that there are only ten chapters to go!**


	31. Of Hypocrisy and Integrity

**A/N: Thank you, if you were one of those people who reviewed, telling me to pull myself together and write something (or, if you phrased it much more nicely than this, still, thanks). I have had a turbulent couple of months, and it's made writing near enough impossible. But hopefully, I should be back on track now, even if I am working all the hours I physically can. I suppose I'll just have to use those ones meant for sleeping, for writing. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Rose and Scorpius feel like they're mine, but they're not really. **

_20 days later._

_October 20__th__._

"I was really dumb to think that I could pull off studying for all my NEWTs and plan this Ball, wasn't I?"

Despite the fact that I word this as a question, Scorpius knows that it is rhetorical, and rather than an answer, I need his support.

"You're practically finished" he reminds me, crossing out a line in his History of Magic essay with unfounded brutality. "You've only got your final dress fitting, and the day itself to worry about now, haven't you?"

He does, admittedly, speak the truth.

Or, at least, one version of the truth.

Despite all the excitement of finding a band, and writing my speech, and sorting out decorations, I haven't forgotten the reason behind the entire event.

Namely, Hugo and Isabella.

And the reason behind them is two-fold; a) to make DiNozzo squirm as much as physically possible, and b) To get Scorpius back on the Slytherin Quidditch team.

Despite DiNozzo's threat at 'leverage' he has yet to use the kiss that he forced upon me as any sort of deal-breaker.

Mainly, I think, because he realises that he does actually need Scorpius as his Keeper if Slytherin are going to be in with any sort of chance of winning the title this year.

It's just Scorpius that I need to convince now.

It's slightly less about blackmailing DiNozzo, and more about using Hugo and Isabella as the poster couple for the Gryffindor-Slytherin pairing; the fact that DiNozzo has yet to beat Hugo to a bloody pulp is implicitly condoning the situation.

Not, of course, that either Hugo or Isabella play Quidditch, but it's hardly the point.

And so, Scorpius and I have just been plodding along for the past three weeks, being a mercifully conventional couple.

Okay, so I have to dodge the odd poisonous comment from Mariah Salinas, but it's nothing that I can't handle.

I'm on speaking terms with BOTH my parents, Teddy and James, so things could not be going more swimmingly.

Scorpius and I do have the occasional row, mostly about our sleeping arrangements, but nothing that a kiss and a cuddle can't rectify easily.

To put it shortly, my life is about as trouble free as it is physically possible for it to be, and my questioning my ability to juggle all my commitments is nothing more than an attempt to bring a sense of normality to my alarmingly perfect life.

I continue to write my Defence Against the Dark Arts essay, which is about the complex magic behind the conjuring of a Patronus, and smile at myself, more than a little satisfied.

Everything has slotted into place, just as I knew it would, and I can see the rest of this year being a walk in the park.

It is good, I realise, to have Scorpius Malfoy on my side, because it cuts down the time I spend arguing by about seventy five percent each day, which in turn has an amazing effect on my blood pressure.

Who would have thought it?

My relationship with Scorpius Malfoy is genuinely good for my health.

* * *

Rose is sleeping with DiNozzo.

Okay, so maybe she's not actually _sleeping _with him, but there is definitely something going on between the two of them.

The fact that Hugo Weasley is walking around the castle with a full set of teeth is conclusive evidence.

Ever since DiNozzo told me that a gentleman never kisses and tells, I've been completely convinced.

My immediate reaction was, of course, to find the guy and curse, jinx and hex him until I'm blue in the face.

But after calming down, I realised Rose had only done it in order to protect her little brother. I suppose I thought that because she was clearly being emotionally blackmailed, I could let it slide even though the thought of that obnoxious prat with his hands on my girlfriend made me see red.

But that was three weeks ago.

Rose is acting perfectly normally, as though she hasn't a care in the world (well, except for classes, and the Ball, and other things of a girly nature, I guess.)

And, what's more, I keep catching them looking at each other.

It'll only ever be a glance, but it's enough for me.

DiNozzo tries to hide his lust behind a thin veneer of disdain, but, quite frankly, he's useless at it.

I've been acting as though I'm totally oblivious for twenty whole days, but as I sit scribbling away about the development of the Wizarding banking community in the early nineteenth century for my History of Magic paper, I start to convince myself that I have to stop whatever it is that Rose is doing.

Even if it is for Hugo.

I go as far as to tell myself that I'll take the boy's day to day security as a personal responsibility (despite the fact that he has refused to heed my copious warnings about Principessa DiNozzo's poisonous personality) if only it'll get Rose out of Phillipe's slimy grasp.

I don't blame her, I realise, as I watch her scribbling away at her parchment. It was clearly a plan that could be contrived only by an evil genius, and it would take an impossibly strong woman to withstand the charm offensive which I know DiNozzo is capable of employing.

I suppose if I just ask her about it she will confirm my suspicions, and any glimmer of hope that DiNozzo might have a shred of decency in him will disappear.

It oughtn't to even be awkward.

After all, Rose and I trust one another absolutely now, even if we did spend six years constantly trying to rip each others' throats out.

I put down my quill, and Rose looks up at me from her essay, probably wondering if I need a hand.

To be completely honest, I do, but I push my mind-numbingly boring assignment to the back of my mind.

Then, taking a few calming breaths, I announce terrifically casually, "Rosie, I know about you and DiNozzo."

* * *

My stomach sinks into my shoes.

I drop the quill onto the table, and squeak "What did you say?"

The expression in Scorpius' eyes is best described as stony.

He repeats. "I know about you and DiNozzo."

I'm stunned for a second or two.

I have absolutely no idea what to reply, or how he found out, or what to do.

In the end, I blurt out, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Scorpius."

Then, I pick up my quill, dip it into my inkpot, and scribble down the first words that spring to mind.

None of them relate vaguely to DADA.

I can feel Scorpius' eyes watching me. But then he too continues to write his homework assignment.

I peek at him as my writing becomes less panicked and frantic.

He seems…dejected.

He looks hurt.

I hate lying to him.

But to explain the whole story (Hugo and Isabella getting together, blackmailing DiNozzo, DiNozzo throwing himself at me) would take an age, and make him angry.

Angry enough to do something extremely stupid, like throw DiNozzo off the Astronomy Tower.

Or boil his head in a cauldron (I know it is his lifelong ambition to do that to SOMEONE.)

"Why would you even say something like that?" I ask, still looking at my parchment.

I'm confused as to which act I should be pulling.

Offended? Surprised? Mortified?

It's just that he said it with such conviction.

It wasn't even a question.

Just an "I know."

He shrugs at me, but doesn't look up.

"Sometimes I open my mouth before I think" he drawls coldly.

I flinch.

It has been a long time since I've heard him drawl.

In fact, my Scorpius Malfoy only ever drawls when he is teasing me, and it does not sound like he is teasing me.

I try to shake the feeling off. I try to convince myself that I'm not doing anything wrong.

I'm not cheating.

I'm not romantically involved with DiNozzo.

I _love _Scorpius. I love him so much that I am letting Phillipe DiNozzo blackmail me so that he can play Quidditch.

And I can tell myself this because I know that DiNozzo is not looking for a new Keeper.

The Slytherin team aren't even using a substitute in their practices.

And how do I know this?

Because DiNozzo told Isabella, Isabella told Hugo, and Hugo told me.

"Well, the only thing DiNozzo is to me is my little brother's girlfriend's brother" I insist faux-cheerily, flipping to a new chapter in my textbook.

A darkness passes behind his silver eyes, and I shiver.

"I give it another couple of weeks" he predicts shortly, "She's a hard faced harpy, and he's a teenage boy. It won't last."

Oddly, it sounds as if he is trying to reassure himself more than me.

"I wouldn't bet on it" I return quietly, "Hugo's much less like James than he'd like to think. I'm sure he can hold down as actual relationship where my cousin never could."

The thought sort of astonishes me.

Not that Hugo is any more mature than James; of course that's not it. But that 'Hugo-and-Isabella' could actually function as a relationship, independent of my meddling.

I feel like a bit of a hypocrite actually.

* * *

She lied.

She looked straight into my face with those charming hazel eyes of hers, and pretended that she and DiNozzo were nothing more than mortal enemies. When I know that there has got to be something more to it than that.

If I didn't know it before, I certainly knew by the way that she dropped that quill, as though it were suddenly red-hot. As though she'd been caught red-handed.

And you know what?

That's fine.

That's totally fine.

My relationship is built on a bedrock of deceit.

Hey, it works for my parents, right?

And so what if she's just broken my heart.

Just because I always believed that Rose Weasley had integrity.

On Platform nine and three quarters that day seven years ago, when my father picked her out as the one amongst all of them that I should consider a threat. The day she made it clear that she wouldn't be taking a place on the Gryffindor Quidditch team just because her surname was 'Weasley' and that she'd have to earn it like everybody else. The time she insisted that her Herbology homework had not been marked without bias, making sure that it was recorded as a B-, rather than the A it was graded.

Integrity.

I was totally sure that she'd have it until the day she died.

Apparently, I was wrong.

The most painful thing is that she's still sitting opposite me looking perfectly comfortable with her lie.

"Do you need my notes for that?" she offers, seeing that I'm not writing anymore.

"No" I return shortly, "I'll do just fine without them."

She looks hurt as she turns her attention back to her own work.

Whilst I hadn't intended to sound so tart, I do not regret it. The hurt in her eyes mirrors the hurt that I feel.

She doesn't even seem to realise that we are having a row, because she replies, "Well, you know where they are if you do need them, darling" and tidies away her own things with a flick of her wand.

I nod sulkily, but cannot seem to concentrate on the task at hand.

Damn her.

Damn her for getting under my skin.

That's the thing with having a girlfriend that I actually care for. When it comes to thinking about her with other guys, it makes me feel so angry that it's really not possible to explain.

And he obviously means something to her, or she wouldn't have lied about it.

I feel like punching a wall, or screaming at someone, or giving a first year a week of detention.

But I am a rational human being, and I know that none of those things would truly help.

I sort of feel like talking to somebody, but there is no one to turn to.

Rose has no idea how lucky she is to be able to get advice from Victoire or Potter or Lupin almost instantaneously by owl, or help from Albus simply by visiting Gryffindor Tower.

It makes it painfully obvious that I have nobody to talk to.

I doubt even Salinas would descend to speak to me; I know how dreadfully she detests my guts.

Which leaves me stuck in a room with a girl that I love with all my heart. A girl who is lying to me.

Thinking about it, I would give anything to go back a few months and have her use the Imperius on me again.

Because, in comparison to this hell, that was easy.


End file.
